She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. ” He would say every time she wore it. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied.
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