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"What does she want to see me about?" asked Jen, coldly.,He paused a moment till the silence was perfect and then he said, with a pretense of reading a notice from a sheet of paper:,Etwald shook his head and smiled.,Mrs. Dallas was a large, fat and eminently lazy woman, who passed most of her time in knitting or sleeping or eating. Her husband had died before she had come to England, and it was the desire to preserve her daughter's health which had brought her so far from the sun-baked islands which her soul loved.,"Under the bed! Are you sure?" said Jen, greatly startled by this information.,There is one exercise here on page twenty that I hate worst of all. You screw up your face tight until you look like a Christmas mask to get your neck muscles taut, and then wobble your head round like a new-born baby until it swims. I did that one twenty extra times and all the others in proportion to make up for those two hours in bed. Hereafter I'll get up at the time directed on page three, or maybe earlier. It frightens me to think that I've got only a few weeks more to turn from a cabbage-rose into a lily. I won't let myself even think "perfect flower" and "scarlet runner." If I do, I get warm and happy all over. I try when I get hungry to think of myself in that blue muslin dress.,Elinor merely stirred and mumbled something indistinct, much to the contrite Patricia's relief.,The girl, who was unknown to them both, addressed them impartially.,"Then whom do you suspect?" asked Etwald, fixing his dark eyes on the major.,"What is the matter?" asked Maurice, in surprise.,"How could she?" wondered Patricia, feeling awed by this devotion to art.,"I have, and to Mrs. Dallas, who declines to sanction our engagement. She wants Isabella to marry David, and said--".