There were no mourners. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. ‘This is not love, Marthe. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice.
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