"The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. ” Michelle relayed the information as if she had been there, though she had not. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. She went about the familiar home with a clearer and clearer sense of inevitable conclusions. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. There never is much left for me. ’ She advanced towards him. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. If you can’t see as how there ain’t nothing in this barrack of a place to help me do the job, I can.
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