All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. "But I'll yet disappoint you. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. ‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments.
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