Besides, it was under false pretences. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. It wasn’t. Ramage. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. CHAPTER XXII. "The key," replied the widow. At first she thought that the woman was just a servant. "I can, and will. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway.
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