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"Don't you think it's the house, too?" she asked critically. "Some houses seem to be so alive and to belong to some people. Greycroft just fitted Aunt Louise, and when she left, it was lonesome till it found someone who liked the same things she did, and then it opened its eyes and waked up again. I don't believe it would be itself with Mrs. Hand in it, or even with the Halls, though they are so sweet and fine-mannered.",

For a whole week after the events already related, nothing new took place likely to alter the situation. Maurice and David remained coldly polite, and very watchful of one another; neither mentioned the name of Isabella, nor did the one or the other see the girl. Mrs. Dallas took care of that. Acting, no doubt, under the advice of Dido (for she had no will of her own), she kept Isabella within doors, and refused to allow her to communicate with Maurice. But, on the other hand, she did not force her to see David; and Isabella was thankful for the consideration.,

The girls enjoyed this surprising revelation of the quiet, elderly gentleman's vigorous taste, but Miss Jinny fairly reveled in such close contact with the life she so ardently envied, and it was nearly midnight when they said good-night and hurried to their rooms, Miss Jinny declaring that she'd never spent such a satisfactory day in her life, and all three full of the ideas for their costumes which Mr. Spicer's photographs had suggested to them.,

When he paused, she pondered and finally spoke out.

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I don't know what I'm going to do about this book, and I've got myself into trouble about writing things besides records in it. He looked at me this morning as coolly as if I was just anybody and said—,

"I know that. I can only suppose that Jaggard fell asleep at his post and woke up in time to see the men getting in by the window. A struggle would then ensue, and he would be struck on the head, as Etwald supposes.",

The room was very dark at first, and little whispers ran all about in the gloom. There was a rustling and shuffling and a sound of hurried, muffled steps. Patricia, from her hiding place behind the door screen, could make out nothing but the dim oblong of the transom above her head and the long pale mass of the skylight.,

"What!" cried Arkel, in surprise. "Do you pity Mr. Sarby?"