The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression. He kept his keen eyes steadily fixed on Thames, as if awaiting to be addressed. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face.
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