‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. The unequal battle went on. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. They litter up the room.
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