Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. “You, too,” he said abruptly. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever.
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