Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. Maggot, laughing. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. "Beg pardon," he said, "but isn't smoking allowed in the dining room?" "It probably is," answered Prudence, "but that in no wise mitigates the odiousness of the procedure.
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