He called a waiter. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. His statement was treated with derision.
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This video was uploaded to meteo15jours.net on 29-05-2024 06:00:10
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