She shuddered. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. 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. If you can tell me nothing I don’t already know, so be it. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. . At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. “In Paris.
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