She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. Again silence. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. " 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.
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