Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. He arrived at 6:29 sharp on the night of the Junior Prom. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. . Where I am in error, you can set me right.
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