Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. ” “And you?” “Rather!” “I wonder why?” “There’s no why. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously.
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