She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. ‘Come, mademoiselle. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. “You are going to treat me as though I wasn’t. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. ‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me.
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