She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. White men never went abroad without helmets. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship.
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