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. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. It depresses one, you know. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote. “I didn’t think you’d come. ‘Why do you think I want a man ready to run to me with every move she makes?’ countered Gerald. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that.
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