She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels.
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