“Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. "I feel like work," he lied. 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.
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