Courtlaw, Mr. ” She sniffled. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her.
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