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Patricia felt that same indefinite sense of loss and disillusionment which had haunted her earlier in the evening, and she shrank back into her corner without a word, fearing that Miss Jinny's clear vision might after all substantiate her shadowy misgivings.,"No, Uncle Jen, I can't. I have my suspicions.","Did you know?" she asked breathlessly. "Did anyone know she was going to get it?","I didn't know Bill would tell you so soon, Mrs. Molly," he said at last gently, looking past me out of the window into the garden. "I was coming over just as soon as I got back from this call to talk with you about it, even if it did seem to intrude Bill's and my affairs into a day that—that ought to be all yours to be—be happy in. But Bill, you see, is no respecter of—of other people's happy days if he wants them in his.","Calm down, Miss Pat," she said, with her hand on the knob. "I'm going to corral a few of the elect and put it to them. Brace up and look pleasant by the time I get back.","Are you not?" said Sarby, with a peculiar smile. "Remember what Etwald said about your life-in-death!",Slowly at last I lifted the blue muslin, twenty-three-inch waist shroud and let it slip over my head and fall slimly around me. I was fastening the buttons behind and was fumbling the next one into the buttonhole when I suddenly heard laughing excited voices coming up the side street that ran just under my west window. Something told me that Alfred had come by the five-down train instead of the six-up, and I fairly reeled to the window and peeped through the venetian blind.,"What is it, sir?" he asked, saluting Jen even in that moment of anxiety. "I heard an awful cry, sir, and came arter you.","Rain," said Jen, drawing back, "All the better; there will be no spies about, and you can take Miss Dallas home without being observed.","Am I asked?" demanded Patricia with eager eyes.,"Insist!" repeated the young man, annoyed by the peremptory tone of his guardian.,That night I did so many exercises that at last I sank exhausted in a chair in front of my mirror and put my head down on my arms and cried the real tears you cry when nobody is looking. I felt terribly old and ugly and dowdy and—widowed. It couldn't have been jealousy, for I just love that girl. I want most awfully to hug her very slimness, and it was more what she might think of poor dumpy me than what any man in Hillsboro, or Paris, could possibly feel on the subject, that hurt so hard. But then, looking back on it, I am afraid that jealousy sheds feathers every night so you won't know him in the morning, for something made me sit up suddenly with a spark in my eyes and reach out to the desk for my pencil and cheque-book. It took me more than an hour to reckon it all up, but I went to bed a happier, though in prospects a poorer woman..
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