A little stack of shoes on a fragment of cloth. Each one patched and buffed leather with cardboard pasted to the bottom and painted black. A young girl stood with her hands wrapped in tattered mittens, her hair under a stained cap. Tuppence, she asks. Just tuppence for a pair of shoes. Tuppence to feed her family, to keep a roof over their heads. Tuppence. Please, sir. Just tuppence. The air was chill, the night coming fast. She bundled the shoes back in their cloth and tucked her scant coins in her pocket to run home.


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