I won't keep you long. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. " "That's well!" cried Jack. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. . . Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance.
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