The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. Let us pass, Sir. I tell you this child would have been strangled. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow.
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