As to his mother, I've no pity for her. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. But you belong to me—and I want you. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake.
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