’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. She felt she had stepped into a world of unknown usages. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. He even hugged her a few times, something he had never done. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her.
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