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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. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. . Along the floor ran an iron bar to which Jack's chain was attached, so that he could move along it from one end of the chamber to the other. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. Sheppard despairingly.
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