"Oh, Heavens!" cried Mrs. Sheppard towards an appalling object in one corner. "Taber," said the manager; "Taber is the name. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. He looked at her guiltily. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me.
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