“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. ‘Very well, arrest me. I may say that the amount of the annuity I propose to allow you is two hundred a year. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father.
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