Still, one never could tell. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies.
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