Her thought spoke aloud. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. Part 7 Then one day a little thing happened that clothed itself in significance. “Young lady! Are you sure you’re of legal age to be smoking those cigarettes?” “No, I’m not of legal age.
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