And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ” She replied. ” Her father interrupted. In the sixth center row sat an unexpected guest, his Classical Greek features stark in the yellow half light. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said.
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