Mrs. Sophie Chimes was determined to get some coal, no matter how little, and no matter if it meant standing all day long in the queue. But after two hours in a bone-chilling wind, Mrs. Chimes collapsed. Neighbors carried her to her small, cold, prefabricated dwelling in the bomb-scarred slums of London's Whitechapel.
Revived, Mrs. Chimes broke up two small orange crates (cruelly labeled "Sunkist") and kindled a puny blaze in her stove. She went to the icy window, peered down the street in the hope of a glimpse of her husband. Unemployed...
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