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"How is it that you are acquainted?" she pressed.
"He sleeps in the room over my store."
"Does he? And is that fit lodging for a state legislator?"
"I keep a clean inn."
Again, that light note of self-deprecation, not at all unattractive.
"It does sound like a peculiar arrangement," she allowed. "But I suppose you should be grateful for having such a quiet tenant."
"You haven't heard him snore."
Then, quite unexpectedly, Mr. Speed laughed. Not a giggle, not a guffaw, not a snort. A perfectly polished and calibrated sound that extended so far and no further and left them just four measures short of the waltz's end. When at last the strings died out, he asked her if she would take refreshment, and when she declined, he conducted her back to her seat and said, "Thank you, Miss Todd, for this great honor." She bowed in reply and was about to turn away when he added: "If it's agreeable, might we pay you a call?"
Excerpted from Courting Mr. Lincoln by Pierre Bayard. Copyright © 2019 by Pierre Bayard. Excerpted by permission of Algonquin Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live
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