She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away. ‘You are wise, Marthe. Your father…. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. But, if you've a spark of love for me, don't meddle with anything in that house. Our heads swim with the thought of being together. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf.
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