Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. Then she had a baby and became as old as any really grown-up person, or older, and very dull. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor.
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