Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood. Anna was unimpressed. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face.
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