Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. It was eleven o'clock. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. Winifred pointed to the door.
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