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Naskowski slowly shook his head. Doris Leighton, passing, stopped for a gay word with Patricia and Judith as they loitered in the hall. She made a laughing little gesture of envy when she heard their program for the day, which Patricia, eager to make amends for the unspoken slight upon her, poured out generously. "It's the best ever," she declared. "I'll 'wagger,' as Hannah Ann says, that you lift the medal.".
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The two young men burst out simultaneously with the speech in tones of sheer astonishment, and stared at Etwald as at some strangle animal. That this elderly man--Etwald was midway between thirty and forty, but that looked elderly to these boys of twenty-five--should dare to love Isabella Dallas, was a thing unheard of. She so young, so beautiful, so full of divine youth and diviner womanhood; he so sombre, pale and worn with intellectual vigils; with a mysterious past, a doubtful present and a problematic future. "Griffin says not to wait—she's got to finish stretching a canvas," Margaret Howes told them, but Patricia and Judith would not hear to beginning the little feast without the staunch and genial Griffin. "Not for certain; but I can guess. Now, Uncle Jen, I shan't answer another question just now, as I must go into Deanminster." "Your sister has covered herself with glory by the way she took her hazing," said Margaret, deftly winding a long string of the rarebit around a bread stick and popping it in her mouth..
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