And they
supplemented their accounts with pen and ink sketches of "Miss Helen
Winship at the Opera," evolved from the fallible inner consciousness of
"hurry-up artists."
When Uncle came home, he found me reading an interview with him which
contained the momentous information that he would say nothing.
"We shall not again forget," he said with a deep sigh of relief, "that
--the face that launched a thousand ships
And burned the topless towers of Ilion
--was Helen's. But the Metropolitan still stands. An argument not used on
heart-hardened Pharaoh was a plague of press representatives."
I'm afraid he'd had a trying day.
The worst of my day was still to come.
After dinner, when I happened to be alone a minute in the library, Mr.
Hynes came in. Oddly enough I'd been thinking about him. I had determined
that the next time he called I would for once be self-possessed; I would
act as if I had not seen how oddly he conducts himself--now gazing at me
as if he would travel round the earth to feast his eyes upon my beauty and
now actually shunning Milly's cousin. I was quite resolved to begin afresh
and treat him just as cordially as I would any other man:
But the moment he appeared away flew all my wits.
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