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The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. She realized that with a pang of disgust and horror. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs.
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