‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. You must live for me. She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor. He was an old, skilled vampire.
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