“Hold on, she’s right here. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very small. The Ragged Edge. I sha'n't cry any more. . ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp. The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door.
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