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They had quarrelled about something or other of no importance. The quarrel was over, but conversation did not flourish. He sulkily pretended to read a newspaper, and her occasional remarks brought forth only grunts by way of response. She was rea'dv to make up, but he wasn’t. She wandered into the next room. He failed to follow. “ They say that music is the food of love,” she murmured softly to herself. “ I'll woo him into a good temper with song.” She glided bade and selected a sheet of music from the assortment that littered the piano. My little chimpanzee, Oh, won’t you fly with me? Tims she warbled. All ineffectual was tho seductive invitation. Ho merely hunched up his shoulders and applied himself more closely to the market reports. She rummaged among tho music, and made another selection. Oh, be my dear baboon Besides the small lagoon. But this appeal produced no perceptible effect. He sniffed, shuffled his slippers, and rustled his newspaper. Quotations in pork apparently claimed his attention. and his interest in the Game was ostentatious. She was net discouraged. Another popular seller took its place on tho music rack. Hers was a sweet voice, and she sang with some feeling My own ourangoutang, You give my heart a pang. She turned with a covert glance to note the effect of this hit of mu.dc-hnil eonti-mr-nt Ho had been listening, all right ei tough My own onrang-cutang. You give Ho threw his newspaper on the floor. “ Louise,” he snapped, “what are y.:u trying to do? Make a monkey of me?”— ‘Tuck.’

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Bibliographic details

IT LOOKED THAT WAY, Evening Star, Issue 15640, 3 November 1914

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IT LOOKED THAT WAY Evening Star, Issue 15640, 3 November 1914