"Well, Mr. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. I’m starving. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it.
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