"They do look a bit queer," admitted Elinor, reluctantly. "Perhaps when you've worked on them more——",
"Now, Molly, don't be jealous just because old Wade has taken her out driving behind the greys after kissing your hand under the lilacs yesterday, which, fortunately, nobody saw but little me! I'm not sore, why should you be? Aren't you happy with me?",
"Not ten, only eight! He went away when I was seventeen," I answered with dignity, wishing I dared be snappy at him: though I never am..
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