A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. ‘I am not a person, Marthe. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. Without Jack, it was certain that she faced danger if she went outside Golden Square. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. But to choose this of all moments.
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