"I'll see to it that you don't forget, miss," she said gayly. "Good-bye, Judy; don't be late for lunch, for it's short and sweet with us real artists. We can't potter over our food like you idle Philistines, you know.",
"Oh, Bruce, the sycamore you painted is gone!" called Patricia, not turning. "Come and see!",
"Not Dido. Oh!" cried Isabella, in a tone of anguish, "it was my mother.".
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