‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him.
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