They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. Madame Valade was looking heartily bored, he noted, as his searching eyes found out the couple. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven.
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