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Judith's voice came plaintively from her room. Elinor merely shook her head gently, while Griffin stood in embarrassed silence. "Oh, Bruce, the sycamore you painted is gone!" called Patricia, not turning. "Come and see!".
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Conrad
"Haven't we had a gorgeous time?" she said, thoughtfully. "I didn't realize that we could enjoy ourselves so much for such a long time. It's been a whole month now, and getting nicer every day. We've been always so pinched that it seems almost wicked to be so careless about spending money, doesn't it, Norn?" Griffin was the first of the three to recover. She leaned forward, a thin, eager hand on Judith's arm. "We'll meet you at the door on Charter Street," Elinor reminded her, as she kissed her. "Be sure to be there on time." All through that long night he knelt beside the bed upon which lay the corpse of the man whom he had loved as a son. The bedroom of Maurice was on the ground floor and the windows looked out onto a little lawn, which was girdled by thick trees in which the nightingales were singing. The sorrowful songs of the birds, flitting in the moonlight and amid the cloistral dusk of the trees, seemed to Jen like a requiem over the young life which had passed away. The major was broken-hearted by the sorrow which had come upon him, and when he issued from the chamber of death he looked years older than when he entered it. It seemed to his big loving heart as though the woman he loved had died anew in the person of her son..
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