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She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. \"Some of them don't smell so good.
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