"He's delightful," replied Hepatica enthusiastically. "You'll be sure to
like him. He lost his wife about five years ago, but hasn't re-married,
and lives mostly at his club, as he has no children. He's devoted to his
work, and has a good, big reputation, though he's still in the early
forties."
Hepatica would not tell me what she meant to have for her dinner, but on
the appointed day shut herself up in her kitchen with a young woman whom
she had engaged, and would allow me only to set her table for her. As I
laid the required number of forks and spoons I realized that she meant
to be true to her word and serve a quite simple dinner. For this I was
thankful. For some reason, which I could not just understand myself, I
was dreading that dinner more than anything that had happened for a long
time.
The evening came. I dressed without enthusiasm, putting on the pale-gray
frock which Hepatica had insisted upon, and pinning on a bunch of
violets which arrived for me at almost the last moment, without any card
in the box.
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