Dolly seldom heard the bearded one's "good-evening"; she could not
possibly have heard the "dear," for though it was there, it remained
behind his teeth. She knew him only as the stiff man who got separated
from his glass without complaining, and at first she put this down to
forgetfulness, and did nothing, so that he could go away without
drinking; but by and by, wherever he left his tumbler, cunningly
concealed behind a water-bottle, or temptingly in front of a
commercial, she restored it to him, and there was a twinkle in her
eye.
"You little rogue, so you see through me!" Surely it was an easy thing
to say; but what he did say was "Thank you." Then to himself he said,
"Ass, ass, ass!"
Sitting on the padded seat that ran the length of the room, and
surreptitiously breaking his cigar against the cushions to help it on
its way to an end, he brought his intellect to bear on Dolly at a
distance, and soon had a better knowledge of her than could be claimed
by those who had Dollied her for years. He also wove romances about
her, some of them of too lively a character, and others so noble and
sad and beautiful that the tears came to his eyes, and Dolly thought
he had been drinking.
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