And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. All her life Martha had been there. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. You are a girl with very little.
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