“You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her.
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