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"You must be, if you know who killed Maurice, yet refuse to confess," retorted Jen, with some heat. "Will you tell me the truth? I ask you for the last time." But Patricia shrank from appearing too magnanimous. "I'm the only original Sinbad," she declared with a very un-Persian hitch to her flowing trousers. "I've got tales that'll make you creep, and as for hairbreadth escapes—why, I'm so full of 'em that I can't see a tumbler of water but that I make a noise like a shipwreck.".
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And as for the judge and Ruth Clinton, I was glad they were sitting beside each other, for I could avoid that side of the table with my eyes until I had steadied myself a few seconds at least. The surprise made the others I had been dining seem statues from the stone age, and only Mr. Graves' fork failed to hang fire. His appetite is as strong as his nerves, and Delia Hawes looked at his composure with the relief plain in her eyes. Henrietta's smile in the judge's direction was doubtful. But they were not all my lovers, and why that awful silence? "Well, Dido didn't know that; she was never in this room." Elinor and Patricia were so occupied with the room that she almost escaped reproof, but Patricia, as she turned from admiring the stairway that wound up one side of the studio to a nook in the peaked roof above, caught a very knowing look on her little sister's face which was meant for Bruce, and she pounced on her immediately. The other two men had dark and strong faces, which differed entirely from the Saxon simplicity and good looks of the major and Maurice. David was clean-shaven and almost as swart as Etwald, and his expression was that of a being with powerful passions, held in check by sheer force of will. He was broad and strongly built; and his smooth black hair, parted in the middle, was brushed carefully from a bold and rather protuberant forehead. The young barrister was somewhat of a dandy, but no one who once looked at his face thought of his dress affectations or dapper appearance. They saw intellect, pride and resolute will stamped upon the pale countenance. Men with such faces end usually in greatness; and it seemed unlikely that David Sarby, barrister and ambitious youth, would prove an exception to the rule..
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