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. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. Ladies with weapon’s on ’em. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. Capes. His heart hammered in his chest. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration.
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