“Quite on my own,” she said. She snatched about in her mind. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. “I’m fine,” she said softly. But his lips were honourlocked. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible.
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