On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. She prevaricated. They did not want her. He knew she would be there, practicing alone in 118. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet.
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