\"I’ve never been to any of Lincoln’s dances. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. \" She replied to him, looking into his blue eyes. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. ” Anna laid down her serviette.
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