Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. “How did you find me?” He asked. All her questions would have as a background the idea of future defence. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force.
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