“Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. 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. "Troth, and so did you," returned the watchman; "but I couldn't belave it. ” She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him.
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