Good night."
Uneasy because he was away from the office, displeased because
he had to leave his beloved letters to the Southern trade, angry
because he had had difficulty in getting a pass to the wharf,
and furious, finally, because he hadn't slept, Mr. Wrenn nursed
all these cumulative emotions attentively and waited for the
coming of the _Hesperida_. He was wondering if he'd want to see
Istra at all. He couldn't remember just how she looked. Would
he like her?
The great steamer swung side-to and was coaxed alongside the
wharf. Peering out between rows of crowding shoulders, Mr.
Wrenn coldly inspected the passengers lining the decks. Istra
was not in sight. Then he knew that he was wildly agitated
about her. Suppose something had happened to her!
The smallish man who had been edging into the crowd so politely
suddenly dashed to the group forming at the gang-plank and
pushed his way rudely into the front rank. His elbow dug into
the proper waistcoat of a proper plump old gentleman, but he
didn't know it.
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