I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. Her nurse says she may live some time; but she seems to me to be sinking fast. “I can’t endure it,” she said. “I do mean that,” she declared. ” She replied. “You know that I have always hated this!” She 264 looked down at Michelle’s pitifully bloody head, her body barely hanging on to its breath. Give me the books.
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