” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull.
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