Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Michelle answered the door. “I wanted to make love to you.
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