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"Mercy sakes, we'll be torn to tatters!" cried Miss Jinny from behind her veil. "Good thing we're done up good and tight. Lands! There goes my whisk—no, they don't either, it's only the veil. Oh, for pity's sake, woman, let me through without any palaver! Can't you tell I'm a female?" The attendant, who at the sight of Miss Jinny's bushy beard had thrust a sturdy arm across the door, dropped the barrier with a snort of laughter, and they were inside the swinging door of the cloak room, with a flushed maid waiting for their wraps, and an edge line of muffled newcomers pushing at their backs.,

"Resurrectionists!" suggested Arkel; whereupon Major Jen shuddered.,

"Had nothing to do with it," interrupted Isabella. "I dropped the handkerchief in the room. Is there anything so very extraordinary in that?" she added, impatiently. "The matter is very simple. I brought with me one of my mother's handkerchiefs instead of my own. In the agitation of finding the body gone I dropped it, and Dr. Etwald found it to use as a bandage. That is quite plain, I think.",

"Resurrectionists!" suggested Arkel; whereupon Major Jen shuddered.

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"Yes, it's going some," returned Griffin nonchalantly, as she started up the stair again, dragging the board after her. "The March Hare originated it back in the dark ages, and we've been doing it off and on—when the authorities don't get on to us.",

The next afternoon when Elinor, completely restored after a day's rest, took out her drawing-board and began to work, Patricia brought out her own study for a final criticism before laboriously lugging it up to the Academy.,

"Mrs. Johnson," I said after a minute's silence, while I had decided whether or not I had better tell her all about it. If a woman's in love with her husband you can't trust her to keep a secret, but I decided to try Mrs. Johnson. "I really am not engaged exactly to Alfred Bennett, though I suppose he thinks so by now if he has got the answer to that telegram. But—but something has made me—made me think about Judge Wade—that is he—what do you think of him, Mrs. Johnson?" I concluded in the most pitifully perplexed tone of voice.,

It had been raining all the afternoon, a gentle persistent rain that gave no sign of clearing, and they decided, after a cozy dinner at home, that their projected trip to Rockham the next day would have to be given up; but when Bruce pulled aside the curtain from the studio window to compare his watch with the illuminated disc of the St. Francis clock tower, he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.