He leaned forward to better drink her in. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. .
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