“Thank you—and good-bye. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. Ennison, or any other young man.
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