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"How could she?" wondered Patricia, feeling awed by this devotion to art. His attitude at this moment was rather displeasing to his friends. He refused to permit anyone to see the chamber whence the body had been stolen, and even declined to discuss the matter or accept advice as to the best thing to be done. To all who spoke to him--and these were many--he had but one reply. He walked meditatively down to the gates, and here, on the high-road, his thoughts led him to a sudden conclusion respecting the coming conversation with Miss Dallas. Without much consideration he retraced his steps rapidly, and sought out David in his room. Then and there he asked him a question which was of vital importance..
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Patricia flung a look at Miss Jinny. "Really and truly I haven't any secret to confess, Bruce. I was only thinking how very nice it was for us, Judy and me, that we had such a genius for a sister." "To tell you the truth, my dear major, and I assure you that the truth will surprise you not a little." "I think Miss Jinny has hurt her hand, Miss Pat," she said with exaggerated anxiety. "She's got her handkerchief wrapped about it. I hope it isn't badly hurt—she doesn't look as if it were inimical, does she?" "They killed Maurice!".
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