She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. I tell you this child would have been strangled. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. He delayed the blow till the fortunate conjuncture was past. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. CHAPTER I. But the love of life prevailed over his fears.
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