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Griffin pushed up her blouse sleeve, showing a remarkably thin arm. "I'm your man, if you ever want a pal," she said to Judith. "I'm trained down to the right weight now and ready for business." The waiter, a broad-faced Belgian, rushed forward with a smile of genuine welcome and a flourish of the spotless towel which he wore upon his left shoulder, and, with a few murmured words in French, motioned them to a table by the front window. "Dear old Norn," she thought with a returning glow. "They can't scare her, bless her heart!".

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"I am no charlatan, major," rejoined Etwald, coolly. "I ask no money for my performance." "What are you two conspirators hatching up over there in the corner?" called Bruce from the fireside. "We're making out our schedule, and you don't know what you're missing!" Of course, anybody that is anybody would be interested in Father Tiber and the old Colosseum, but what made me forget the one slice of dry toast and the apple was the way he seemed to be connecting me up with all those wonderful old antiquities that had never even seen me. Because of me he had felt and written that poem descriptive of old Tiber, and the moonlight had lit up the Colosseum just because I was over here lighting up Hillsboro. Of course, that is not the way he put it all, but there is no place to really copy what he did say down into this imp book and, anyway, that is the sentiment he expressed, boiled down and sugared over. Patricia laughed and blushed with pleasure, preening herself a little and stretching on tiptoe to try to catch a glimpse in the crowded mirror; there was a movement as a sultana who had been carmining her full lips gave place to a dark beggar maid, and Patricia caught the vision of a slender, airy figure, glittering beneath its gauzy draperies with the sparkle of bright gold, and with the glint and shimmer of rosy clanking bracelets and anklets, and the spangled glory of the rose-crowned headpiece stirring a magical memory of Persia..