At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. His manner was deferential, even eager. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. "Well, Joan," said the benevolent mechanic, after he had looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, "what say you?—silence gives consent, eh?" Mrs. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself.
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