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Young Irony

           "Tellme,"hedemanded,leaningforwardeagerly,"howdoyouknowabout’Ulalume’howdidyouknowthecolorofmyhair?What’syourname?Whatwereyoudoinghere?Tellmeallatonce!"

           SuddenlythelightningflashedinwithaleapofoverreachinglightandhesawEleanor,andlookedforthefirsttimeintothoseeyesofhers.Oh,shewasmagnificentpaleskin,thecolorofmarbleinstarlight,slenderbrows,andeyesthatglitteredgreenasemeraldsintheblindingglare.Shewasawitch,ofperhapsnineteen,hejudged,alertanddreamyandwiththetell-talewhitelineoverherupperlipthatwasaweaknessandadelight.Hesankbackwithagaspagainstthewallofhay.

           "Nowyou’veseenme,"shesaidcalmly,"andIsupposeyou’reabouttosaythatmygreeneyesareburningintoyourbrain."

           "Whatcolorisyourhair?"heaskedintently."It’sbobbed,isn’tit?"

           "Yes,it’sbobbed.Idon’tknowwhatcoloritis,"sheanswered,musing,"somanymenhaveaskedme.It’smedium,IsupposeNooneeverlookslongatmyhair.I’vegotbeautifuleyes,though,haven’tI.Idon’tcarewhatyousay,Ihavebeautifuleyes."

           "Answermyquestion,Madeline."

           "Don’trememberthemallbesidesmynameisn’tMadeline,it’sEleanor."

           "Imighthaveguessedit.YoulooklikeEleanoryouhavethatEleanorlook.YouknowwhatImean."

           Therewasasilenceastheylistenedtotherain.

           "It’sgoingdownmyneck,fellowlunatic,"sheofferedfinally.

           "Answermyquestions."

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