" The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. She never forced the issue, it was their father’s job. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour.
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