" Rambling in this way, the matron at length came to a halt, and taking out a key, pointed to a door and said, "This is Mrs. Do not mistake me. He begged their attention for the next turn. His skill has not been tried. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “How fortunate I am, Miss Pellissier! All day I have been hoping that I might run across you. Take your pick, Mrs. " Her attitude now entirely sisterly, he ceased to be afraid of her; there was never anything in her eyes (so far as he could see) but friendly interest in all he said or did.
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