They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. Why not? Quite willing. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. “Oh, you know,” she said. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. And he had destroyed all this. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect.
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