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"Oh, I don't know," replied Patricia easily. "She's kind, anyway. I think if she were thin, people wouldn't find her half bad. Fat people never seem quite as human as the rest of us." "Find out if any of the servants have taken it." "What is it, Norn? Didn't you get along all right?" she asked breathlessly..

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"I reckon you're wanting to hear all about mama, and the visit you're going to make us," she said, wisely. "I'll get my old trunk here unstrapped, and we'll talk while I lay out my duds in those nice wide bureau drawers. You'll laugh, I guess, when you see what I've brought you each, but I want you to promise that if you don't like them, you'll say so, and I'll hunt up something that pleases you better." Patricia, promising to give Doris' messages to Elinor and the rest, hurried off, leaving the drawing-room windows once more blank and impassive. She ran into the studio as Griffin was rising to go, with her umbrella, reclaimed from the stand, still dripping slow occasional drops unheeded on the polished floor. Patricia sighed and stirred restlessly. "Isn't that like life?" she commented, her face clearing as the thought took hold on her. "We're all hankering after something that we haven't got—or we think we are. Maybe—maybe we'd not like the other thing any better if we did get it, though one's own things always seem awfully commonplace, don't they?" Across the road a huge sycamore blocked the way and on the pike a giant willow had crashed down..