" "A Chinaman. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. . The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. “Indeed,” she said, “it was very fortunate that I should have met you this afternoon. The soldiers! They must not find her here.
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