Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. You are to come home. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. But Gosse began to drag her towards the door. It doesn’t matter. With all your cunning, we're more than a match for you.
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