Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla. But here she met with a check. . 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.
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