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"Oh, don't spoil sport, Moll! You said you would wake up this town, and now do it. It seems twenty instead of six years since I went to a party with you, and I'm not going to wait any longer. Everybody is there, and they can't all have Miss Clinton." Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a look, and raised her head proudly. "Dido?".
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Conrad
Griffin chuckled. "It's fame that tames them, mark my words. Soon's they get known they grow into a pattern. Ready now. Let her r-r-r-rip!" "To-night!" echoed Jen, starting up. "You saw Maurice to-night?" Jen hesitated. Elinor hesitated. "I don't know," she replied slowly, measuring her words. "I can't put my finger on it, but she doesn't seem the same to me as she did at first. She isn't jealous of my poor work, of course, but I can feel a something—a wall or barrier—that she raises up between us whenever my work is spoken of. I felt it when we talked about the subject of the prize designs, and I felt it today more clearly than ever. We can't be friends any more as we were, I'm afraid. Something has come between us. 'The little rift within the lute,'" she quoted sorrowfully..
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