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. ’” Anna made no remark. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father. I'd go for it. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father.
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