Never before had any human being kissed her lips. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars.
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