A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. “I remember when you walked me home. Nuns, I mean. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. But before the child could be committed to her care, it was wrested from the carpenter by Rowland. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man.
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