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 drooped long upon her cheeks, and her color deepened all but imperceptibly.

The man's breath halted, then came a trace more rapidly than before. He bent forward impulsively. … The girl sighed, ever so gently.

"I was thoughtful. … It's all so strange, you know."

His attitude was an eager question.

"I mean our meeting—that way, last night." She held his gaze again, momentarily, and

"Damn the waiter!" quoth savagely Mr. Anisty to his inner man, sitting back to facilitate the service of their meal.

The girl placated him with an insignificant remark which led both into a maze of meaningless but infinitely diverting inconsequences; diverting, at least, to Anisty, who held up his head, giving her back look for look, jest for jest, platitude for platitude (when the waiter was within hearing distance): altogether, he felt, acquitting himself very creditably. …

As for the girl, in the course of the next half or