Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. “Want to see the computer?” He asked eagerly. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. I couldn’t help the thought. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face.
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