“Thank you both for treating me for all the world like I was your child. Earles drew out his cheque book. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. We'll get those books into your room first. ‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story. He unhooked it from the front clasp. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back.
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