’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Then her fingers moved. “I’m fine,” she said softly.
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