From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now.
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