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Patricia's heart beat hard with the beauty of the woven word and melody, and she gave a little gulp to keep back the tears that sprang so readily. "Of course, or I'd have sent word by you instead of phoning," said Elinor quickly. "Come along down, both of you. Everything is ready, and Margaret Howes is making Welsh rarebit just specially for you—she heard you say you adored it. Hurry, hurry." "Yes?" queried Jen, eagerly. "I am open to correction. Please go on.".
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"Isn't she lovely?" she demanded in a thrilling whisper of Elinor, who had slipped into her things and was already at the door. Judith's face assumed a smooth blankness that passed unnoticed by both Elinor and Patricia, now intent on finishing their breakfast and getting off. I know now that I really never got any older than the poor, foolish, eighteen-years child that Aunt Adeline married off "safe." But all that was a mild sort of exasperation to what a widow has to go through with in the matter of—of, well, I think worrying interference is about the best name to give it. Patricia gave a gasp of comprehension. "That's what made you so grimy that day Mrs. Halden came in for tea!" she exclaimed..
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