"He; also, has paid the penalty of his offences," returned Thames. 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. She was like an angel with one wing. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class.
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