Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. It was the incendiary intellectuals of the bourgeoisie, with their militant ideas of revolution, who had raised the populace to a pitch of violence resulting in cases of wholesale slaughter—such as had overtaken the Valades. He kissed her ardently. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. If this is the young lady, she can perhaps calm him. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. She’s already spoken for.
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