" Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. CHAPTER IX. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. “It’s like the Picture and the Bust. But probably not the truth.
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