She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. I'll try to fill in the gaps. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. "I can't make you understand; I can't make you see things as I see them. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. "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. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet.
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