In the struggle, Mrs. "Amazement!" cried Wild. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. ‘Why, you have heard yourself all that is being said. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. She felt she had stepped into a world of unknown usages.
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