“That is very nice of you,” she said. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. It still failed in something.
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