The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. Alors, one must steel oneself.
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