He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. “She’s been up to no good, Sheila. Wood, "it may be poisoned. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already.
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