e sea; the gleam of light from the printing-house opposite took on the prismatic colors of an electric fountain; and through her mind or was it through her blood? vividly flashed the consciousness, not expressed and not even formulated in thought: "I am young, I am beautiful, I am alive..."
The next day Franka set out to look for a position. She thought she might become a companion or a reader or something of that sort. She applied at several employment bureaus. Her name was registered, the booking-fee was put into the cash-drawer, and then she was asked for references. She had none. The woman who had charge of one bureau remarked: "You have one great fault: you are too young and too pretty."
The remark was to the point. Although she was more than twenty, Franka seemed scarcely eighteen. She was very tall and supple in figure; her big black eyes though much weeping had temporarily robbed them of their usual fire were shaded by beautiful thick lashes; her mouth had a fairly fascinating loveliness
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