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"Read it for yourselves," she smiled, tossing the sheet across the table. "My time's about up. It's criticism morning in the portrait class, and I want to get a lot more done before Mr. Benton comes." "But why did you wish to act in this generous manner?" "Well, you needn't," expostulated Judith sagely. "You got it, didn't you?".
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"What do you mean?" asked Maurice, turning his still frowning face toward this strange and enigmatic man. "Hush!" she cautioned, slipping an absent hand into Judith's quivering palm. "Bruce is talking. Oh, isn't he dear, to say nice things of each of us. It's like commencement time, Ju, isn't it? All the good little girls get prizes, but I wish he wouldn't go back to that honorable mention of mine. I feel like an impostor." "Insist!" repeated the young man, annoyed by the peremptory tone of his guardian. "Upon my soul!" cried the sultana of the inflammable name. "You're a corker! Do you mean to say, Miss Pat, that this buccaneer is the lady from the rural districts you were spouting about?".
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