E. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other.
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