They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. I must stay a minute longer, if only to see you smile. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. And she’s pluck to the backbone. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. Her steps slowed. 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. He tried to make love to me. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her.
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