There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. I am going up to dine with my sister. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her.
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