"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. 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. "I will at once convince you of the truth of my assertions, and ascertain whether the enemy really is at hand. Mike is a simple guy, but he’ll see through any act of yours. But what I want to get at is this.
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