’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Anna failed in her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own living. Well, that’s the situation. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. .
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