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"I thought it would," replied Arkel, with a look of satisfaction. "Well, Battersea wondered at the body being put into the carriage--" "Phew! That's great!" cried Patricia, springing lightly to her feet. "It's more like flying than anything else." "Maurice! Maurice! Where is he?" she cried, leaving the major and rushing toward the empty bed. "You said he was here--my poor dead love; but I can't see him. Where is he? Where is he?".

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"In a state of high fever, poor soul," said Jen, with a depressed look. "He does nothing but rave. Yet, in all his wild talk he never lets slip a single word likely to help us." "Oh, Miss Pat!" she cried in an ecstasy. "I've made good, and I can write to Bruce and tell him!" Oh, I'm hungry, hungry until I cry in my sleep when I dream about a muffin! I thought at first that getting out of bed before my eyes are fairly open, and turning myself into a circus acrobat by doing every kind of overhand, foot, arm and leg contortion that the mind of cruel man could invent to torture a human being with, would kill me before I had been at it a week, but when I read on page sixteen that as soon as all that horror was over I must jump right into the tub of cold water, I kicked, metaphorically speaking. And I've been kicking ever since, literally to keep from freezing. "I'm not really sick," she said, in a faint tone, as Patricia cuddled down on the floor beside her and took the chilly hand in her warm one. "I have one of my old headaches. I forgot to get any lunch. I had just put the key in my locker, when everything grew black and I'd have collapsed if Doris Leighton hadn't helped me to a chair. She gave me some milk and got my things for me, and when I felt well enough, she came over here with me. She's certainly the sweetest thing. She had to miss getting her criticism, too. Mr. Benton had just gone in when I crumpled up.".