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A glare from Patricia stopped her, but it was too late. A chorus of laughing voices took up the demand, "A song, Miss Pat!" "Don't be stingy, Kendall Minor; tune up!" "Give us a sample, Miss Pat!" until Griffin, with a bow, offered her arm to the rebellious Patricia and led her, protesting and abashed, to the chair whence Elinor had escaped. Miss Jinny shook her head. "I always was bent on sea-life and I know a lot about it. I can swap tales that'll make them believe I'm the only genuine Sinbad, and I wouldn't miss the chance for a mint," she said conclusively. The taxi stopped with a bump at the curb and Patricia sprang out, paid the man and joined Miss Jinny on the sidewalk before the door had opened to admit the little worn trunk that the driver shouldered with such ease..
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And I'm praying again as I sit here and watch for the doctor's light to go out. I hate to go to sleep and leave it burning, for he sits up so late and he is so gaunt and thin and tired-looking most times. That's what the last prayer is about, almost always—sleep for him and no night call! What brought me to consciousness was his fumbling with the lace on that blue muslin relict of a sentiment. The lace had got caught on his sleeve buttons. Then her breath caught in her throat and her heart gave a sudden flop, for, as Elinor raised her left hand there was a flash and glitter of gems—a new splendid circle of diamonds scintillated on Elinor's third finger. "And mine, too," said Maurice, hotly. "Isabella is--".
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