" 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. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. That’s why we are here. ” She stopped, and then suggested: “I wonder—I should love—if it was anything I said.
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