She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. "And I'll bet a doughnut that boy in his soul is crazy to have it over with. I am certainly no ghost.
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