A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. It’s not fair to you. 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. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then. That’s what I mean. “I’ve been,” she said, “forbidden to come. . By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St.
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