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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"Alice Adams"


"Nice evening," Adams said further, as their hands parted. "Nice
time o' year it is, but we don't always have as good weather as
this; that's the trouble of it. Well----" He went to the door.
"Well--I bid you good evening," he said, and retired within the
house.
Alice laughed. "He's the old-fashionedest man in town, I suppose
and frightfully impressed with you, I could see!"
"What nonsense!" said Russell. "How could anybody be impressed
with me?"
"Why not? Because you're quiet? Good gracious! Don't you know
that you're the most impressive sort? We chatterers spend all
our time playing to you quiet people."
"Yes; we're only the audience."
"'Only!'" she echoed. "Why, we live for you, and we can't live
without you."
"I wish you couldn't," said Russell. "That would be a new
experience for both of us, wouldn't it?"
"It might be a rather bleak one for me," she answered, lightly.
"I'm afraid I'll miss these summer evenings with you when they're
over. I'll miss them enough, thanks!"
"Do they have to be over some time?" he asked.
"Oh, everything's over some time, isn't it?"
Russell laughed at her. "Don't let's look so far ahead as that,"
he said. "We don't need to be already thinking of the cemetery,
do we?"
"I didn't," she said, shaking her head.


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