Spurlock slumped in his chair, weak and empty. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. ” She propped herself up on the massive oaken post of the bed, feeling the paralysis tingle her legs as it left them ever so slowly. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand. Wary they might be. " She kindled with sympathy.
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