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A blue-aproned girl who had been packing her materials in an adjoining locker turned civilly. "It was a little quiet," acknowledged Elinor, "but, at least, they were very pleasant about it. They all agreed that it was the cleverest thing that had been done in that line." Battersea himself knew nothing of its esoteric meaning, but to the negress the mention of the emblem conveyed a distinct understanding. She let her arms fall listlessly by her side, and, with an unseeing gaze, she stared at the green trees bathed in hot sunshine. After a moment or so she muttered to herself in negro jargon and clenched her hands..
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Patricia was silent, weighing this suggestion. They both broke into negation at once as they reached their own front door. "Do you know, Miss Pat," said Elinor, breaking a long silence "that I don't like Doris Leighton any more. It isn't because she got the prize—you know me better than to think that—but I've been noticing her more closely recently and I don't think she rings true." What his real name was nobody knew, but he said that he was called Battersea, after the parish in which he had been reared as a foundling. With regard to David Sarby, he had passed with the estate to Jen. The boy's father, a libertine, a drunkard and a confirmed gambler, had been forced, through his vices, to sell his ancestral home; and within a year of the sale he had dissipated the purchase money in debauchery. Afterward, like the sordid and pitiful coward he had always proved himself to be, he committed suicide, leaving his only son, whose mother had long since been worried into her grave, a pauper and an orphan..
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