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Book, page 132 / 201 'There's cold meat--' 'That's for me, then.' The stranger sat at the end of the table and ate with the tired, quiet soldiers. Now, the landlady was interested in him. Her brow was knit rather tense, there was a look of panic in her large, healthy face, but her small brown eyes were fixed most dangerously. She was a big woman, but her eyes were small and tense. She drew near the stranger. She wore a rather loud-patterned flannelette blouse, and a dark skirt. 'What will you have to drink with your supper?' she asked, and there was a new, dangerous note in her voice. He moved uneasily. 'Oh, I'll go on with ale.' She drew him another glass. Then she sat down on the bench at the table with him and the soldiers, and fixed him with her attention. 'You've come from St Just, have you?' she said. He looked at her with those clear, dark, inscrutable Cornish eyes, and answered at length: 'No, from Penzance.' 'Penzance!--but you're not thinking of going back there tonight?' 'No--no.' He still looked at her with those wide, clear eyes that seemed like very bright agate. Her anger began to rise. It was seen on her brow. Yet her voice was still suave and deprecating. 'I _thought_ not--but you're not living in these parts, are you?' 'No--no, I'm not living here.' He was always slow in answering, as if
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