Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. It vosh plain he vent dat vay. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word.
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