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Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 19-09-2024 20:05:31
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