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XII. “might I Have A BIt Of Earth?”

           Medlock,butturnedandwalkedintoherbedroom,followedbyMartha.Shesaidnothingwhileherdresswaschanged,andherhairbrushed,andaftershewasquitetidyshefollowedMrs.Medlockdownthecorridors,insilence.Whatwasthereforhertosay?ShewasobligedtogoandseeMr.Cravenandhewouldnotlikeher,andshewouldnotlikehim.Sheknewwhathewouldthinkofher.

           Shewastakentoapartofthehouseshehadnotbeenintobefore.AtlastMrs.Medlockknockedatadoor,andwhensomeonesaid,“Comein,”theyenteredtheroomtogether.Amanwassittinginanarmchairbeforethefire,andMrs.Medlockspoketohim.

           “ThisisMissMary,sir,”shesaid.

           “Youcangoandleaveherhere.IwillringforyouwhenIwantyoutotakeheraway,”saidMr.Craven.

           Whenshewentoutandclosedthedoor,Marycouldonlystandwaiting,aplainlittlething,twistingherthinhandstogether.Shecouldseethatthemaninthechairwasnotsomuchahunchbackasamanwithhigh,rathercrookedshoulders,andhehadblackhairstreakedwithwhite.Heturnedhisheadoverhishighshouldersandspoketoher.

           “Comehere!”hesaid.

           Marywenttohim.

           Hewasnotugly.Hisfacewouldhavebeenhandsomeifithadnotbeensomiserable.Helookedasifthesightofherworriedandfrettedhimandasifhedidnotknowwhatintheworldtodowithher.

           “Areyouwell?”heasked.

           “Yes,”answeredMary.

           “Dotheytakegoodcareofyou?”

           “Yes.”

           Herubbedhisforeheadfretfullyashelookedherover.

           “Youareverythin,”hesaid.

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