‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. She looked steadfastly out. He nodded silently, too full for words. 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. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone.
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