White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape. . Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. \"What about scholarships?\" \"Can't get 'em if your parents are rich.
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