Frances Mary Peard, An Interloper
“ Tours rang with the news, the very walls seemed to whisper it in his ears as he walked along the narrow streets, and he never failed to pass by the photographer’s, and to fling a glance of recognition at Poissy—Poissy, with its delicate grace, its exquisite lines—as who should say, “Tiens, ma belle, thou and I are no longer strangers; we belong to each other.” ”
