You are nothing of the sort. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. She has given herself up to social work.
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