“This isn’t a world for an innocent girl to walk about in. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. She would end alone. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position.
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