CHAPTER VIII. Mrs. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them.
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