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"Do you mean Elizabeth March, who got the Tassel prize this year?" asked Patricia in surprise. "Why, I saw her last week at the exhibition and she was awfully prim looking." "And what did you do?" asked Jen, much interested in this strange history. "Oh, you mean that Obi rubbish, my dearest," said Maurice, slipping his arm round the slender waist of the girl. "It is on that very account that I wish to tell your mother of our engagement, for I must rescue you from the influence of that dark Jezebel. She is dangerous.".
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"No, the poison is dried up." "I no hear him say anytink about Obi," she replied; "but de spell; it say you marry dat man and no de yaller-ha'r." "Are you speaking about the lunch room?" she asked in a pleasant contralto voice. "I can show you where it is, but you'll have to bring your lunch with you. There are gas stoves to cook on in the back room, and tables and chairs in the front one, if you're not too late to get a place." "H'm!" said Maurice. "It is devil-worship, pure and simple.".
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