“Do you mean in looks?” she asked. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away. Will you unlock that door?” “Never!” he said. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy.
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