” The dinner was admirable as a dinner; nothing went wrong, from the golden and excellent clear soup to the delightful iced marrons and cream; and Miss Stanley’s praises died away to an appreciative acquiescence. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. “It was my sister Anna. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910.
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