“No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. She's not for pleasure, but for work. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.
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