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"In that case I am sorry for David," retorted the major. Patricia held out her hand across the cloth. "I can't kiss you, but here's the substitute. You're a duck, Bruce Haydon. Where is the studio?" "We can ring if Bruce has no other key," said Elinor hastily. "She'll surely let us in.".

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"I wonder what they are like, and if they'll like us," mused Elinor, her gaze on the fire that was snapping on the hearth in Miss Jinny's room where the sewing was being done. So I hurried and stuffed the grey-blue darling in the top tray, lapped the old black silk around my waist and belted it in with a black belt off a new green linen I had bought for morning walks—down to the butcher's in the High Street, I suppose. That is about the only morning dissipation in Hillsboro that I can think of, and it all depends on whom you meet, how much of a dissipation it is. Griffin, who was just behind her, winked solemnly at Patricia and then shook her head sadly, as if to indicate that the monitor was in her opinion hopelessly incorrigible. "Well, have it your own way," said Etwald, carelessly. "I am a scoundrel in your eyes, I dare say; but if you will permit me to see you to-morrow at eleven o'clock I shall be able to prove that this particular devil--meaning myself, major--is not quite so black as you have painted him.".