Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. 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.
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