'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. ’ To her surprise, Captain Roding backtracked. 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. The place for reading. "I read those stories.
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