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``When you said you wished your father could have seen the
drill,'' said The Rat, ``you took my breath away. I'd never have
had the cheek to think of it myself--and I'd never have dared to
let you ask him, even if you wanted to do it. And he came
himself! It struck me dumb.''
``If he came,'' said Marco, ``it was because he wanted to see
it.''
When they had finished talking, it was time for Marco and The Rat
to go on their way. Loristan had given The Rat an errand. At a
certain hour he was to present himself at a certain shop and
receive a package.
``Let him do it alone,'' Loristan said to Marco. ``He will be
better pleased. His desire is to feel that he is trusted to do
things alone.''
So they parted at a street corner, Marco to walk back to No. 7
Philibert Place, The Rat to execute his commission. Marco turned
into one of the better streets, through which he often passed on
his way home. It was not a fashionable quarter, but it contained
some respectable houses in whose windows here and there were to
be seen neat cards bearing the word ``Apartments,'' which meant
that the owner of the house would let to lodgers his drawing-room
or sitting-room suite.
As Marco walked up the street, he saw some one come out of the
door of one of the houses and walk quickly and lightly down the
pavement. It was a young woman wearing an elegant though quiet
dress, and a hat which looked as if it had been bought in Paris
or Vienna. She had, in fact, a slightly foreign air, and it was
this, indeed, which made Marco look at her long enough to see
that she was also a graceful and lovely person. He wondered what
her nationality was. Even at some yards' distance he could see
that she had long dark eyes and a curved mouth which seemed to be
smiling to itself. He thought she might be Spanish or Italian.
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