"No, I don't. I must go and dress at once. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive.
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