“Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. But, whether she likes it or not, I aim to be on hand to get her out of it. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. “What are you doing?” He cried. She crept out of the shadows.
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