“Very likely. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. He must be more or less of an age with this man. The child was still safe. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. Spurling. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. But come, sir.
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