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 III. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. It hardly served his interests. “Now look here, Veronica, let us be plain with each other. There was no other door in it, and Jack therefore struck into another entry which branched off to the right. .
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