’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. “I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. Not Trodger. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames.
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