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"Now you're safe and sound, with no bones broken," said Griffin, as Patricia sank down on the roomy couch. "You're a nice one, you are, scaring us into a blue fit just when we were about to blister our paws with applause for the heroine of the day." Upon her Dido exercised a powerful, and it must be confessed, malignant influence. She had fed the quick brain of the girl with weird tales of African witchcraft and fanciful notions of terrestrial and sidereal influences. Isabella's nature was warped by this domestic necromancy, and had she continued to dwell in the West Indies, she might almost have become a witch herself. Certainly Dido did her best to make her one, and taught her nursling spells and incantations, to which the girl would listen fearfully, half-believing, half-doubting. But her residence in England, her contact with practical English folk, with the sunny side of life, saved her from falling into the terrible abyss of African superstition; and how terrible it is only the initiated can declare. It only needed that she should be removed from the bad influence of the barbaric Sybil to render her nature healthy and fill her life with pleasure. "Murder!" echoed Jaggard, his ruddy face growing pale. "And who, sir--".
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Conrad
"Why not to-night?" asked Jen, sharply. As the curtain was drawn from the long canvas Patricia's eyes were on the faces of those in whose impressions she was most interested, and they gave her great satisfaction. Mrs. Bingham's eyes were wide and startled as those of the small hen who discovers that her ungainly child is really a white swan. "Yes, and in an easy manner. Never get married." "Is that the grand surprise you meant, Bruce Haydon? Sure you aren't fooling us? Oh, you are! You've got something else—I know it by your eyes. You look awfully guilty.".
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