"What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. It came again. " "For an old bachelor?" "A human old bachelor. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. 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.
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