I went home. All the way up the hill I walked beside a "crocodile." How pathetic those convent children are in their funny little round hats, all so much too small, and their maroon-colored dresses with the shoulder-capes to hide any suggestion of sex. Their noses were pinched and their lips were blue from waiting in the cold to see their "protector." They were at the age "between hay and grass," narrow-chested, and long-legged like colts. They climbed the hill stiffly two by two, their eyes looking meekly at the ground. Three sisters kept them in line.
At home I found a summons from the police to appear with Marie at the local police bureau to-morrow at nine, to receive our passports. I telegraphed Peter through Mr. Douglas. Now that our affair is settled, I feel no emotion—neither relief nor joy.
THE END
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
U. S. A.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter's errors and to make the use of hyphenated words consistent; otherwise, the transcriber has made a diligent effort to be true to the original text.