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drenched himself. Oh, yes, he was just the same, but he had always been kind to her, and she was glad to see him again.

She said, blowing her nose with a very clean pockethandkerchief: "My father is going to marry Mrs. Purdie."

"Then he is a dumkopj," said the juggler. He added, after a pause: "Is that why you cry?"

"Yes. I don't like her—and I think she hates me."

"Are you still a dancer, Lina?"

She nodded.

Nurdo held the candle close to her face.

"But you are changed, Linal You are already a woman. How old are you?"

"Nearly fifteen."

"You were so little, when I was last here. You had a rag-doll, that you put to bed like a baby. And you called it Julia."

"Where are you playing, Nurdo?"

He told her. At the obscure music-hall of a suburb near by. He was there for a week, and then he would go abroad to join a traveling circus on the Continent, for he had been in England for three months, touring the provinces.

"Will you come and see my act to-morrow night, Lina? I can get you a seat."

"Oh, yes, please."

She was smiling now, transformed by so much kindness.

Casually, almost furtively, he put his hand over hers, which seemed to him colder, more tiny than a snowflake. She might have been a little ghost sitting there on the stairs to keep him company. He shivered.

"How bitter it is here—come for a moment to my room. It's warm, and I have some chestnuts that we can eat together."

"Very well."

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