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"I do, however," muttered Jen, divining that Dido had taken the usual route back to "The Wigwam." "It is green, with a handle of gold, and blue stones set into the gold." "But," insisted Elinor, "we haven't anything——".
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Conrad
"It isn't stuffy," defended Judith with a flash. "It's a nice, crackling word, and I got it from Arnold Bennet, if you want to know. He uses it all the time. And I've got another, too—'inept'—and that's what you are now, Patricia Kendall. I'm ashamed of your extreme indifference to the beauties of your own language." "It's my sketch," admitted Elinor in a low tone. "I missed it the next day, but I thought Miss Pat had dropped it when she brought my things home to me. My study was almost done, and I forgot all about it after that." Patricia was tremendously interested and it was with the greatest regret that she heard the whistle of the up-train, while the tangle of the sycamore was still undisturbed in the roadway. "Yes," he replied, with point and some dryness. "It gives me a clew in a direction for which I should not have looked for it. Thank you, Miss Dallas, and you, Dido. I shall now say good-day.".
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