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"Perhaps I may settle affairs sooner than you think," said Alymer, rising. "Uncle Jen, I won't be back to dinner to-night, as I have to go into Deanminster." "Do you wish David to marry Isabella Dallas?" Her eyes swept one wall and then the other, searching for the familiar canvas, but all in vain, until she lifted them to the screen which stood in the center of the room, and where three canvases were hung, Elinor's below the other two..
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Conrad
Jen was astonished, both at her peremptory tone and her quiet manner. Whatever influence had been at work, it was certainly wonderful how she had calmed down from the nervous, hysterical girl into the reasonable and cool-headed woman. Isabella noted the amazement of the major, and guessing its cause, she explained the reason of the change in her looks, manner and nervous system. "Quite right, quite right!" broke in Major Jen, heartily. "I want Maurice to marry." Elinor promised, smiling at Patricia's vehemence, and went off with her canvas, securely wrapped against curious eyes, held firmly in one gray-gloved hand. Yes, the word "trousseau" ought to have a definite surname after it always, and that's why my loyalty dragged poor Mr. Carter out into the light of my conscience. The thinking of him had a strange effect on me. I had laid out the dream in dark grey-blue cloth, tailored almost beyond endurance, to wear in the train going home, and had thrown the old black silk bag across the chair to give to the hotel maid, but the decision of the session between conscience and loyalty made me pack the precious blue wonder and put on once more the black rags of remembrance in a kind of panic of respect..
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