“Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. They were things I had meant very much to talk to you about, so that I went home vexed and disappointed, and only relieved myself a little by writing a few verses. His age was not far from fifty. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery.
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