This last was in the minority.
"Thank God!" Horace thought, as his eyes met one and another of the girl-faces.

"She is not, cannot be, a common type." And then he felt something like a chill of horror as his eyes met those of a new pupil, a girl from Alford, who had only entered the school the day before.

She was not well dressed.

There was nothing coquettish about her, but in her eyes shone the awful, unreasoning hunger which he had seen before.

Upon her shoulders, young as they were, was the same burden, the burden as old as creation, which she was required to bear by a hard destiny, perhaps of heredity.