She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. If you met her you would, I am certain, think her as fine as I do.
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