The hansom drove off. Tell me. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely.
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