The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home.
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