One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. ‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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