” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. " "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. And that brought them to vegetarianism and teetotalism, and the young man in the orange tie and Mrs. Again silence. I’m fine. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter.
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