‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both.
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