A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. ‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. The thought of beauty became an obsession. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. “My charm of manner, I suppose. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date.
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