Returning to the audience-chamber, Blueskin had the Jew brought before him. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. They concern us all. "Put it under my pillow," he said. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards.
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