’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. How could he have betrayed her so cruelly? How could he lie and claim her as dead? Sebastian studied her carefully as she refused to cry and became like a pillar of stone. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. Take, if you please, your own pistol. To tell someone who is kind and who will understand!" "There, there!" he said.
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