“Mary!” He whispered loudly. " 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. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. Only a son’s another story. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. " "The very face," exclaimed Gay, advancing to look at it;—"with all the escapes written in it. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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