Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. . "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated.
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