He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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