‘All this gadding about. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. She woke up choking and belching water. "That we were afraid," replied the other; "but never mind her. 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. It was an impulse. You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope.
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