“Martin, I don’t know what to say. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. It is that you cannot refuse her sanctuary.
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