It struck the major that she was very young. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. F. He looked at her, hurt. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect.
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