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She, too, wanted new dresses; she could hardly endure the grace and costliness of Connie's garments, when she compared them with her own; but there was something in her sad little soul also that would not let her be beholden to Connie. Not without a struggle, anyway. "I don't want Connie to give me things either," she said sulkily. "She's never been the least nice to me.

"It is theatrical, like everything Connie does," said Mrs. Hooper severely. "I beg that neither of you will copy her." Nora walked to the door opening on the back garden, and stood there frowning and smiling unseen. Meanwhile Joseph followed close at Connie's side, directing her, till they passed through various crowded streets, and left the railway behind.

Pee-wee blurted out. Crackey, I thought I'd die. "What do you know about that little water snake," El Sawyer said. Then he shouted, "Bully for you, Skinny!" I said, "You'd better look out, you'll get yourself in trouble." "What do I care for the Elks?" he said. "That's all right," I said; "Connie's got Skinny copyrighted, all rights reserved."

Alice had a kind of uneasy foreboding that Herbert Pryce would think a title "interesting." Meanwhile Nora, having looked through an essay on "Piers Plowman," which she was to take to her English Literature tutor on the following day, went aimlessly upstairs and put her head into Connie's room.

Eichard was living Miss Connie's brother. He was near fifteen years older and he died in South Africa, poor lad! Ah, when he was killed it nigh broke the Colonel's heart. Well, I've often helped out at the Manor when extra service was needed. Far rather would I see Miss Connie wedded to Mr. Max." "But how did Miss Connie happen to know the prince?" asked Frances. "In Rome.

The worst of some kinds especially of small illnesses is, that they make you think a great deal too much about yourself. Connie's, which was a great and terrible one, never made her do so. She was always forgetting herself in her interest about others. I think I was made more selfish to begin with; and yet I have a hope that a too-much-thinking about yourself may not always be pure selfishness.

Sorell emerging with the stream into the High Street saw Connie's black and white parasol a little ahead. Falloden was on the point of overtaking her, when Radowitz, the golden-haired, the conspicuous, crossed his path. Constance looked round, smiled, shook hands with Radowitz, and apparently not seeing Falloden in her rear, walked on, in merry talk with the beaming musician.

"And as long as he lives, I shall look after him," he thought, feeling that strange compulsion on him again, and yielding to it with mingled eagerness and despair. For how could he saddle Connie's life with such a charge or darken it with such a tragedy? Impossible! But that was only one of many reasons why he should not take advantage of her through their common pity for Otto.

Why, he and Miss Connie grew up together, brother and sister-wise. The way of it was that Mr. Max's mother died when he was but a tiny and Mrs. Lisle, Miss Connie's mother, about took him for her own. He's fair lived with them. Many's the time he and Miss Connie have run in here for their tea or to dry their feet. You see I was parlor-maid at the Manor before I married Trott. That was when Mr.

"Why don't you wish your tongue was one, Hat, then you wouldn't have to sharpen it," suggested Connie. "I bet Miss Lady had my pencil," went on Hattie, ignoring Connie's comment. "She's never owned a pair of scissors, or a pencil, or a shoe-buttoner since she's been here. And look at those letters on the mantel! She'll never think about mailing them." "What are they doing with black borders?"