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"Why, because they're the very nicest things in the world, of course," she replied spiritedly. "I love to get new ones and see how they work. It's such fun. Like archery practice, when you hit the bull's eye. Only words are somehow different, too. They sort of taste when you say them—sometimes sweet and sometimes tingly and queer, like the Amorites and Hittites," and she giggled at the memory. "Don't keep me hanging on here in the dark too long," protested Patricia. "I'm worn to a bone already." When he vanished round the curve of the drive, Isabella, with a very pale face, turned toward Dido..
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Patricia, thrilled by the sweetness of the rippling, crooning song, and before the verse was half done, joined unconsciously in with the others, forgetting the need of words in the melody of the lilting song. "You are a coward in submitting yourself to the influence of this base assassin," cried Jen, enraged by the calmness of the young man. "And as an ungrateful man--do you want an explanation of that term?--you whom I have loved and brought up as my own son?" "I haven't had my criticism yet, and if I don't get it next pose, you'll have to go to the station without me," said Elinor to the other two girls as she met them in the corridor the next morning. "Mr. Benton's awfully slow, but I can't miss this first criticism, you know." "We're going to see the decoration—the one Elinor made for the church, you know," said Patricia to Miriam as they left the festive, disheveled sitting-room to the rejuvenating hands of Hannah Ann and Henry, and went with the chatting crowd into the big studio again. "Bruce wouldn't have the luncheon in here because we couldn't get a good view of it if the place was cluttered up with tables and things. He's fearfully proud of it. He says it's as good as lots of regular artists could do.".
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