Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. She could not part with dignity. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done.
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