He glanced up at the coachman. He taught her about crowds, which men were the evilest, how to locate and dispose society’s garbage. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House.
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