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OF A SENTIMENTAL NATURE
XVII
SHE was wearing a Panama, and she carried a sketching block and camp stool.
"Good evening," I said.
"Good evening," said she.
It is curious how different the same words can sound when spoken by different people, My "good evening" might have been that of a man with a particularly guilty conscience caught in the act of doing something more than usually ignoble. She spoke like a somewhat offended angel.
"It's a lovely evening," I went on pluckily.
"Very."
"The sunset!"
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