“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. "Well, Sir," said Kneebone, when the other concluded, "I shall certainly not oppose his capture, but, at the same time, I'll lend you no assistance. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate.
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