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"That's Griffin; I know her ring!" cried Patricia jumping up. "I'll go." "Good girl, Judith!" cried Patricia, pulling the stool with its burden nearer to the light. "I'll plunge in right away and get it blocked in tonight. Do you know where I put that other package of modeling-wax, Elinor?" Patricia had known Geraldine Leighton in a very slight and casual way, but with the word "dying," she became the heroic center of her hurrying thoughts. She saw her in the dim room with Doris and the nurse and doctor, each agonizingly intent on the slow, faltering heart-beats and the fitful, irregular breathing. As her swift mind galloped on to the end, and the subdued sounds of grief caught her inner ear, another face began to print itself rapidly on that quick-moving scene—Doris, white and haggard, looked into her eyes, and she felt her whole heart go out to her..
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"What!" cried Jen, with an expression of ferocious joy lighting up his face, "you have a warrant for the arrest of Etwald?" David, grinning broadly, cast a rather sheepish glance at the hurrying throng. "Patricia's awfully superficial, I think," she confided to him cheerfully, as she watched her readjusting her bright hair beneath the pretty hat rim at the quaint old mirror of the bookcase. "She's so set on pretty things. She just worships anyone who is pretty—no matter whether she understands their character or not. I wish we could make her more serious-minded and careful." "Now, don't let's waste time," said David briskly. "Where are we bound first? How about taking a peep at the art-joint? Do you allow visitors in the morning?".
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