But he would make it a point not to speak again to the girl. “It is true,” he said, “that I was dining last night at a restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was a young lady whose name is Pellissier. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. She had agonized over it for weeks. \"Oh. I can talk with them. A sob was strangled in her throat. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips.
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