He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. “A man can smoke, a man can swear; A man scores always, everywhere. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. It seemed as if all the precautions previously taken were here accumulated.
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