Her father had determined on a new line. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. “It’s settled. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors.
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