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Max by Katherine Cecil Thurston
page 45 of 365 (12%)

But monsieur picked up his hat and coat.

'What! He was not going? Oh, it was impossible! He could not be so
unkind!' Her face expressed dismay.

But her only answer was a stiff little bow, and a second later the door
had closed and the boy was running down the stairs of the hotel as
though some enemy were in hot pursuit.




CHAPTER IV


The mind of the boy was very full as he passed out of the hotel, so full
that he scarcely noticed the whip of cold air that stung his face or the
white mantle that lay upon the streets, wrapping in a silver sheath all
that was sordid, all that was dirty and unpicturesque in that corner of
Paris. The human note had been touched in that moment in the
_salle-à-manger,_ and his ears still tingled to its sound. Alarm,
disgust, and a strange exultant satisfaction warred within him in a
manner to be comprehended by his own soul alone.

As he stepped out into the rue de Dunkerque he scarcely questioned in
what direction his feet should carry him. North, south, east, or west
were equal on that first day. Everywhere was promise--everywhere a call.
Nonchalantly and without intention he turned to the left and found
himself once more in face of the Gare du Nord.
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