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Updated: June 6, 2025
Nolak speaking, and that they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. Thus assured, Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his third of the last bottle of champagne. At eight-fifteen the man in the tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to start his roadster. "Froze up," said Perry wisely. "The cold froze it. The cold air." "Froze, eh?"
"Something for you?" she queried pessimistically. "Want costume of Julius Hur, the charioteer." Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented long ago. Was it for the Townsends' circus ball? It was. "Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's really circus." This was an obstacle. "Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly.
One large poplar tree, the relic of the old forest which had once flourished there, twinkled in one corner; for the rest, it was overgrown with coarse weeds and a few dusty flowers. The Townsends stood just inside the rude board fence which divided the lot from the street and stared with wonder and horror, for Cordelia had told the truth.
The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though there was a scattering of people of all ages present the dancers were mostly from school and college the younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball up at the Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside the ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes and beaming whenever she caught her eye.
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