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"Oh, Patricia!" she cried in Patricia's ear, but the words died into the tempest. "Yes, Mr. Alymer," replied Etwald, deliberately, "it reminds me of a man who died." Outside a warm wind was blowing, and the air was filled with the perfume of flowers. In the dark blue sky hardly a cloud could be seen, and the moon, just showing her orb above the tree-tops, flooded the still loveliness of the night with wave after wave of cold light. All was full of charm, spellbound, as it were, by the magic of moonlight, when suddenly a long, wild cry struck shuddering through the silence..
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Miss Jinny gave a snort of defiance. "Just you wait till this month is over, Patricia Louise Kendall," she said belligerently. "I'll be back in that old rut so tight you won't be able to see where I ran in again. Not go back to housekeeping with mama, indeed! I'll bet that I put up as many extra pickles and jams this year as I ever did, and with the exception of having the library and you people and the Haldens again, I don't see much change ahead of me, I can tell you!" Patricia drummed on the railing. "She was well enough," she admitted grudgingly. "But after I had modeled those figures and tried to get something appropriate for each one—and it was hard to get the candy into the inside of them, too, without spoiling it—they go and accept them as though they were a cup of afternoon tea. I thought they'd show more spirit. Don't talk to me about artists being gay and Bohemian after this." "No, the poison is dried up." "But why did you wish to act in this generous manner?".
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