“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. Sometimes ships would stop three or four days for water and repairs; and the men would carouse in the back room at Morgan's. ‘Not care? For this he must be an Englishman tout à fait sympathique, and— and I know only. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself.
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