The months that followed September spiraled downward. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. ’ Trodger eyed her with suspicion. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. If I let you believe I did not love you, and they found me, your shame would be negligible. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. No man knew whence she had come nor why. I meant to lie to you. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs.
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