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An Open-Eyed Conspiracy; an Idyl of Saratoga by William Dean Howells
page 9 of 142 (06%)

"It will be hot enough anywhere," I assented, as if the remark had
been made to me; but here I drew the line out of self-respect, and
resolved that he should make the next advances.

The young girl looked up at the first sound of my voice, and
verified me as the elderly man whom she had seen before; and then
she looked down at the water again. I understood, and I freely
forgave her. If my beard had been brown instead of grey I should
have been an adventure; but to the eye of girlhood adventure can
never wear a grey beard. I was truly sorry for her; I could read in
the pensive droop of her averted face that I was again a
disappointment.

They all three sat, without speaking again, in the mannerless
silence of Americans. The man was not going to feel bound in
further civility to me because I had civilly answered a question of
his. I divined that he would be glad to withdraw from the overture
he had made; he may have thought from my readiness to meet him half
way that I might be one of those sharpers in whom Saratoga probably
abounded. This did not offend me; it amused me; I fancied his
confusion if he could suddenly know how helplessly and irreparably
honest I was.

"I don't know but it's a little too damp here, Rufus," said the
wife.

"I don't know but it is," he answered; but none of them moved, and
none of them spoke again for some minutes. Then the wife said
again, but this time to the friend, "I don't know but it's a little
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