She was my first love. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown.
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