Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. 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. And they pay her. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love.
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