"Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. He stood back and held her shoulders. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. It’s a world of dirt and skin diseases and parasites.
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