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JENE.

Later on, however, I did make friends with a little girl, but memories of her bring remorse. She carried over her slightly bent shoulders a mass of blonde hair. Her thin face fell low on her chest, and her gray eyes were sad and pathetic. Though we spoke little to each other we were good friends. In some tableaux vivants given by the school we appeared together as the Little Princes in the Tower. It was appropriate, for Fate was, indeed, a wicked uncle to both of us, and Life the darkest of towers.

The following year, after the holidays, my little friend did not return to school. I over-heard someone say: "Poor Jane, she is to become a humpback like her sister". To what extent I was impressed by this at the time I cannot recollect; but a year later when Jane arrived on her father's boat and asked that  should join her for a day on the river, although permission was given I refused to go. Had I forgotten her, or was my mind unwilling to accept her fate?