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’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. "I'll see him fettered myself. What happened? Did you turn me?” “Yes, my love. “No one asks you to care for them. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so.
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