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"That being the property of Mrs. Dallas, she had lost it there," interrupted Jen, smartly. "No. I told you also that Isabella had confessed to having dropped it at the time of her midnight visit. But now I know that she told me a lie!" "Three pounds of candy for the modeling and composition class, four for the head and illustration class, and five for the life," was the prompt response. Then suddenly Billy stiffened right in my arms, and looked me straight in the face, and said in the doctor's own brisk tones, even with his Cupid mouth set in the same straight line—.
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"You'd better go, man, before I bring my father to set our dog on you," he exploded, and, before I could stop him, his thin little legs went trundling down the garden path toward home. "He's a Russian refugee," she said, triumphantly, and as she quickly covered her work again, and they passed out through the little side entrance, she told them the tragic scrap of the model's history that had sifted through the gossip of the work room. "Voodoo!" said Dido again, and showed her teeth in anything but a pleasant fashion. "The great master," repeated Jen; "you mean Dr. Etwald?".
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