In order to make Mr. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls.
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