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The man lingered. 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. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. Only the strong survived. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan. " "Confusion!" thundered Wild. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. It’s all right. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit.
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