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. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. . ” “Has my sister been unkind to you?” “The family,” he declared, “has not treated me with consideration. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec.
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