“How do you feel?” she asked. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. She could not feel her own body. ” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London.
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