The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. He parried without apparent effort. The fashions of the day have become antiquated. Later on—well then the time may come. Goodbye. She thought of Capes. “It’s not for us to supplicate any more. They don’t now.
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