She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated.
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