‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your cavalier here would not wish to be arrested. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. . Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes.
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