I knew where I would go next: Florence. At the gate opening upon the road leading to Dollis Hill were stationed William Morgan and John Dump. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. Then it was the woman herself who was changed. Of course, girls repeat phrases and opinions of which they cannot possibly understand the meaning. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. I do swear. She may afford us some necessary information.
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