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"What, David, back again!" he said, ignoring the question asked by Sarby. "So you did not stay to dinner?" "How mean!" cried Patricia spiritedly. "Bruce hasn't even seen that study. What did he say about it?" "And also loved by Mr. Sarby," said the doctor, coolly..

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The door clicked behind them and they set their faces to the sunset, and Greycroft, and home. "The assassin--you know the assassin? Who is he or she?" Among the palms and costly rugs that backgrounded a marvelous regal dais occupying one long end of the great room, sat the glittering figure of the portly Haroun-al-Raschid, Sultan of Bagdad and husband of many lovely wives, whose multi-colored costumes made a glowing garden on the rugs at the foot of the dais, while on the embroidered cushions at the side of the monarch a lovely Scheherazade in shimmering white satin with strings of glistening gems in her hair, on her breast, on her arms and ankles, made an alluring picture of the new-made bride. Tall palms reared their stately fronds above the group and slave girls, with fierce Nubians in attendance, waited in mute homage at either side of the throne. Lamps of brass glittered in the alcoves back of the great dais, and above it all the roofs and minarets of the ancient city gloomed in the moonlight of the thousand and second night. The words died on her tongue, as Elinor suddenly emerged from the portrait class door, her face radiant and with an exclamation of quick pleasure at the sight of them..