Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock.
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