The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. 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. Hitchings, who seem to be absolutely engrossed in one another, and a boy of about seventeen, who no sooner got here than he discovered that he wanted to see a man in the promenade and disappeared. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered.
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