‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. ” He moved himself from the recliner to the couch and patted a cushion. Here lay a heap of knockers of all sizes, from the huge lion's head to the small brass rapper: there, a collection of sign-boards, with the names and calling of the owners utterly obliterated. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again.
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