xbridge,” she said.

    “Asking questions?”

    “Anshem,” she replied.

    “You  broken our voicing somet her figure.

    “Oo ’s  imagine,” s out, “ing, iful, isfying—”

    “ is?” I asked.

    “to—to—ansions,” sold me tory. But in t ed and excited me more trangest cry, half whoop, half holloa—

    “City! City! ity!” s bottle!”

    t a cruet containing mustard, o administer when she recovered her composure.

    “You s of t ths ago,” I said severely.

    “true,” s muc no unate, by t my motalia.”

    “Oalia, your motard pot.

    “No, no, no,” se  of me—instead of e.” So  on talking.

    Meaned to discuss ts of our observations. Everyone, I t, felt as I did about Castalia. to see  lengt it ime to begin. S  ts o be inconclusive—alia nudged me and  t. t up, and, interrupting Jane in tence, said:

    “Before you say any more, I  to knoo stay in to confess t I am an impure woman.”

    Everyone looked at onis.

    “You are going to have a baby?” asked Jane.

    She nodded her head.

    It raordinary to see t expressions on t of  tcalia,” and so on. Jane,  to us:

    “Shall she go? Is she impure?”

    Suc reet outside.

    “No! No! No! Let ay! Impure? Fiddlesticks!” Yet I fancied t some of t, girls of nineteen or ty,  ions, and at last I sa, o her:

    “ is city t good, or is it bad, or is it not all?” S I could not catc she said.

    “You kno ten minutes.”

    “In my opinion,” said Poll, ity is not ignorance—a mos