The Storm VII. 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. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. " "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. We’ll have some buttered toast. I’ll try to stay as long as I can. ” She said with a smile. “And besides,” said Ann Veronica, sweeping that aspect aside, “what could I do? A boy sails out into a trade or profession. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. " "Deferred!" echoed Sheppard.
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