“Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. Mr. Plote was sleeping or deaf. She tried not to blush. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. “To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament.
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