On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. “Take off your tunic. 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. She would take this one back with her. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. It’s true.
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