His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. ” “It offered from fifteen to two-and-twenty shillings a week—for drudgery. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. ‘Why do you stand there? Take him up, and bring him out at once. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.
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