He must be tied behind the carriage. But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment—ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. She was ushered into the back of the squad car. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. You don't realize what you have done. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. All her life Martha had been there.
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