Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. On the north stood the battlements of one of the towers of the gate. Not a bark could be discerned on the river, except those already mentioned. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. ’ ‘As we see. We live under man-made institutions, and that is what they amount to. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical.
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