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"Don't I always study like this?" replied Judith without looking up. "Go ahead as long as you like—only don't talk. I want to study." "What in the world did Hannah Ann write to you for?" queried Elinor absently. "She usually sends her weekly reports to me." "I guessed as much," resumed Etwald, with a cold smile. "Now, it is strange--".
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"None at all. But the wind and rain were wild outside, so that they may have drowned the noise made by those who broke in." So, as there was no other key, Patricia put her finger to the bell on the lintel and kept it there till the knob rattled and the door was flung open wide. Judith was standing in the middle of the big, comfortable studio and her face was flushed, but not one word did she say in explanation of her singular behavior. "There's a picture for you, Elinor," said David, pointing to the beautiful serrated mass of the great buildings looming misty-blue against the gold. "Can't you remember that, and put it on canvas when you get home?" "I didn't ring," she explained, standing on the little blue rug by the umbrella stand, and jabbing her dripping umbrella into the stand. "The hall door was open and I came right in." She hesitated, and then rushed on, directing most of her speech to Elinor. "Geraldine Leighton is dying, they say, and I thought we might each send a little note to Doris—she's awfully alone, now that Mrs. Leighton is ill, you know. It mightn't help her much, but it would show her that we——".
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