"To be sure I will, my child. The cloth nearly touches the floor. I have—run away. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. Stimulated by the promise of something handsome to drink, the man acquitted himself to admiration in the management of his lazy cattle. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. ‘But that will do for a start. He has a way of sitting on people. Imagine any one on this side refusing fifty bucks! Well, I'll be toddling along.
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