I step on my neighbour's feet, return and apologize because my acquired conscience orders me to do so; whereas you might pass on without caring if your neighbour hopped about on one foot. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said.
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