“What can you do?” she asked. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. I was mean to him. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. The other lay unconscious in a heap. ’ ‘Alas. I can decide for myself.
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