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back of Collar and Daniel's "First-Year Latin," composed an answer:
My dear Miss St. Claire:
Your truly charming envitation for the evening of next Thursday
evening was truly delightful to receive this morning. I will be
charm and inchanted indeed to present my compliments on next
On Thursday, therefore, he walked pensively along the slippery,
shovel-scraped sidewalks, and came in sight of Myra's house, on the
half-hour after five, a lateness which he fancied his mother would
have favored. He waited on the door-step with his eyes nonchalantly
half-closed, and planned his entrance with precision. He would cross
the floor, not too hastily, to Mrs. St. Claire, and say with exactly the
"My _dear_ Mrs. St. Claire, I'm _frightfully_ sorry to be late, but my
maid"--he paused there and realized he would be quoting--"but my uncle
and I had to see a fella--Yes, I've met your enchanting daughter at
Then he would shake hands, using that slight, half-foreign bow, with all
the starchy little females, and nod to the fellas who would be standing
'round, paralyzed into rigid groups for mutual protection.
A butler (one of the three in Minneapolis) swung open the door. Amory
stepped inside and divested himself of cap and coat. He was mildly
surprised not to hear the shrill squawk of conversation from the next
room, and he decided it must be quite formal. He approved of that--as he
approved of the butler.
"Miss Myra," he said.
To his surprise the butler grinned horribly.
"Oh, yeah," he declared, "she's here." He was unaware that his failure
to be cockney was ruining his standing. Amory considered him coldly.
"But," continued the butler, his voice rising unnecessarily, "she's the
only one what _is_ here. The party's gone."
Amory gasped in sudden horror.
"She's been waitin' for Amory Blaine. That's you, ain't it? Her mother
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