” He stood up rather close to her and looked into her eyes. When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. ’ 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. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. . Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground.
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