And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. Then her fingers moved. “This ain’t no place for you. CHAPTER XXI. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. “Well,” she said. "What's the matter?" he cried.
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