She finished the olive and looked up. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself.
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