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276 so he’d have a chance to talk to madrina! It’s all right; we’ve got to get out of the way, and let him steal her, but I’m going right up to my room. I don’t want to go anywhere to talk and behave.”

“Nor I,” Florimel echoed. “Jane and I will go upstairs; they’ll never know. When you come back, come in at the side door and whistle up the back stairs, Win. We’ll hear and come down, as if we’d been with you, but I couldn’t see a soul while I knew my little toy-mother was getting stolen, just as Jane says. My gracious! People lock up their spoons!” Florimel added with bitter disgust.

“Do you mean to imply that this Englishman is spoony?” Win suggested, but Florimel could not smile. She stalked upstairs, shaking her head, its black braid of hair appropriate to the mourning stamped on the handsome little face below it.

Mary and Win went on their way, therefore, without the others.

“I’m glad your hands aren’t scarred, Mary,” Win said, taking one of them to draw it through his arm. “I’ve always been fond of your capable, shapely hands, my dear. That mark on the right one isn’t going to show. There’s ro-