” She said. “And yet I do it without compunction. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. . . Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ‘I trust you were not altogether disgusted when I kissed you. I’ll drive you home once my buzz goes away. Silly woman!. ” “Touch you I mean?” She looked around. Stones and brickbats were showered on all sides, and Mr.
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