‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. 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. Almost had Martha won out. “Yeah.
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