A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. It was horrible. " 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. The new-comer looked at Charcam. I fight. That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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