"But, I say, that girl is a queer one. “Home, of course,” she answered. Yes, of course. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. The manager twisted his moustache. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on.
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