Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open,—then the window,—and they were in the room. It ceased to be the symbol of liberty and a remote and quite abstracted person, and became suddenly and very disagreeably the token of a large and portentous body visible and tangible. They would suffer amazing hardships to hunt the snow-leopard; but in the Temple of Five Hundred Gods they would not take the trouble to ask the name of one! But this girl, she was alone. “And where are YOU going?” he said. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno.
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