“I do not suppose he will be home till late. So far the boy's mind was clear. Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. She was frightfully hungry. “Before I took up the Suffrage,” a firm, flat voice remarked, “I could scarcely walk up-stairs without palpitations. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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