"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. ‘And I’d like to know what the devil—’ ‘Out of town?’ repeated Melusine, stupefied. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. 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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