BEHIND THE rusty iron gratings of the opposite window sits a girl, dark and plain of face, like a boat stranded on a sand-bank when the river is shallow in the summer.

        I come back to my room after my day's work, and my tired eyes are lured to her.

        She seems to me like a lake with its dark lonely waters edged by moonlight.

        She has only her window for freedom: there the morning light meets her musings, and through it her dark eyes like lost stars travel back to their sky.