She got home every night in time to cook supper and it was good money. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. She spoke slowly. “He’s got almost to like it. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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