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. 6. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan.
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