She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. She is no longer mine; she is yours. I see that compromise is more necessary to life than I ignorantly supposed it to be, and I have been trying to get Lord Morley’s book on that subject, but it does not appear to be available in the prison library, and the chaplain seems to regard him as an undesirable writer. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners.
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