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She wanted me to see her sister, poor Mrs. Eversley, who is ill at her house. I promised to look in to-morrow." "I've just been telling Nance how beautiful I think Mrs. Wyeth is," said Bernal. "She's rare, with that face of the low-browed Greek. It's one of the memories I shall take back to my Eve-less Eden." "She is beautiful," said Nancy.

Do you know, Maggie darlin', what I was saying to myself there in the box, while I watched the stage and waited for Obermuller? He said he'd drop in later, perhaps. "Nance," I said, "I kind of fancy that apartment sort of idea myself. They tell you, Nancy, that when you've got the artistic temperament, that that's all you'll ever have.

What a quaint belief it must have been." "Oh, I must go! let me, now." "Don't you find it interesting, Nance, rummaging among these musty old religions of a dead past though I admit that this one is less pleasant to study than most of the others. This god seems to lack the majesty and beauty of the Greek and the integrity of the Norse gods.

And now Nance claimed her muff, the one survivor of the three cotton-batting masterpieces made for the skating carnival of Sophomore year, and as she thrust her hands inside, they encountered a long, hard object. She drew it out and with a flourish waved above her head a clean, meatless but unmistakable ham bone!

Nance asked. "Her's making me a gingerbread man." "I know a story about a gingerbread man; want to hear it?" "Is it scareful?" asked Ted. "No, just funny," Nance assured. Then while he sat very still on the gate post, with round eyes full of wonder, Nance stood in front of him with his chubby fists in her hands and told him one of Mr. Demry's old fairy tales.

For it was only thought of Nance that made life bearable to him. The sun wheeled his silvery dance along the waters; the day wore on; and still no sign of the invaders.

I can see thousands of miles into your eyes there's a fire smouldering away back in there it's all smoky and mysterious after you go the first few thousand miles but, I don't know I believe the smile is needed, Nance. Poor child, I tell you this as a friend, for your own good it seems to make a fine big perfection out of a lot of little imperfections that are only fairly satisfactory."

I've been tempted at times to throw it all up and go back to England" at which Nance's heart gave so unusual a little kick that she had difficulty in frowning it into quietude, and just then Bernel came in with his gun and a couple of rabbits. "Who's going to England?" he asked. "I'll go too." "No you won't," said Nance sharply. "We want you here."

"I'll send a excuse by Fidy, an' say you 're sick in bed. Then you kin stay home all day an' git the house cleaned up." "Naw, I won't," said Nance rebelliously, "I ain't goin' to miss ag'in." "You're goin' to shut up this minute, you sass-box, or I'll take you back to that there juvenile court. Git me a piece o' paper an' a pencil."

"Was that it, Nance?" demanded Jennie, suspiciously. "It it must have been," admitted Nancy. But in her heart of hearts Nancy knew that she had stumbled over the toe of Cora Rathmore's skate. The girl had deliberately thrown her. It made no difference in the result of the race. Nancy could not have won, she knew. But it warned her to look out for Cora Rathmore if she raced again with her.