Above her head was an aura of white fire. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. “We always have things out with OUR father, poor dear!” said Hetty. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. \" \"Would you like me to carry some of the books? I have nothing to bring home today.
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