A curious silence ensued. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. "Mr. ” He said. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. ‘Must be another of her lies.
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