‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. He is an awfully good sort— and now he has come to me to help him if I can. ‘I find you excessively rude, both of you,’ said the lady crossly. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Which is also puzzling. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. Besides—there is Sir John. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred.
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