’ 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. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. Rituals instead of medicines.
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