” She looked at him quizzically. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. Who invented them? Nobody knows. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. ” “Shall we go now?” “I think I would like to listen to music. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. . .
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