Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. After that consolations fled. Piano wire, stained with black rust from the horrible deeds she had committed. She evolved a dim image of herself cooped up in a house under the benevolent shadow of Mr. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er. CHAPTER XVI. You haven’t an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with.
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