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"She's rather too collap-y for my taste," volunteered Patricia, gathering up the remains of their repast. "I like the looks of lots of the others far better than hers. Let's ask Miss Margaret Howes about her. No doubt she can tell us what is her secret trouble." "As if I'd publish it on the housetops!" she cried in infinite disdain. "It's plain you aren't much up in detective stories." "Pray don't ask it," said Isabella, better informed by Etwald's glance as to his purpose. "It will only give you pain.".

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"Good gracious, Molly, don't knock the town down like that! Let 'em have more than a week to get used to this white rag of a dress you've been waving in their faces for the last few days. Go slow!" Patricia played with the handle of the great glittering brass amphora that stood by the low stool where she sat. Her face was puzzled though not disquiet. A confused recollection of having heard the words and tune sung by my mother when I was at the rocking age myself brought the tears to my eyes as I flew to the window and parted the curtains. If you heard a little boy-angel singing at your casement, wouldn't you expect a cherub face upturned with heaven-lights all over it? Billy's face was upturned as he heard me draw up the blind, but it was streaked like a wild Indian's with decorations of brown mud, and he held a slimy frog in one hand while he wiped his other grimy hand down the front of his linen blouse. "What does she do?" asked Patricia, delighted with the ease and candor of this speech. She felt sure this rickety, loose-jointed, pale-colored young woman was going to be worth while..