He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. Diedermeyer, sweetheart? He just went in. ” “Remember that you are young still, and fond of admiration,” Anna said. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father.
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