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"What in the world—" she began in alarm, but Elinor silenced her questioning with a weak wave of one tired hand. "They are all so used to it," she said, with a note of humility in her sweet voice. "They make me feel so green!" "Oh, you may laugh, Miss Pat. But all the same, I'd know. I could tell by the little things that you grown-ups don't notice.".

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"No, we looked for them high and low, but didn't see hide nor hair of them," he answered, ruffing his hair in a way that distressed Patricia, who was very proud of his straight, shining locks. "Just a case of permanent glooms, if you ask me," replied Griffin airily. "She loves melancholy, though she is an awfully good sort, too. She gets on my nerves, though, she's so brittle." She knew very well what it was, for her grandmother had been carried off as a slave from the west coast of Africa, and knew all about Ashantee sorcery and fetish rites. These she had repeated to her granddaughter Dido, with the result that Dido, cherishing these recollections, knew exactly how to use the wand of sleep. She had spoken about it to Dr. Etwald, quite ignorant that Jen kept one as a curiosity, and now Etwald had intimated through Battersea that he wished her to do something in connection with the stick. What that something might be Dido at the present moment could not guess. I hurried all I could, but for long minutes I stood in front of my mirror and questioned myself. Could this slow, pale, dead-eyed, slim, drooping girl be the rollicking girl of a Molly who had looked out of that mirror at me one short week ago? Where were the wings on her heels, the glint in her curls, the laugh on her mouth, and the light in her eyes?.