They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. Footman or some such. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Bird, the turner, to give him an order this evening. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him.
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