Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. People were passing in the street below. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. And I heard ‘Alcide’ sing, and that little dance she did.
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