\" Now it was Michelle’s turn to laugh. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had.
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