The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. “What else can happen?” asked Miss Miniver, with a little weak gesture at the glow.
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