One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Cathy's eyes widened, her cheeks expanding to a smile. “No, I am alone,” she answered. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. " 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. "How have you managed to communicate with him?" Abraham, who had listened attentively to the foregoing conversation,—not a word of which escaped him,—now drew in his breath, and brought his ear closer to the boards.
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