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 that and to finish yours too?&quot;

&quot;Oh, I suppose so. I've told you it is n't a question of time. I see now that mine are not worth bothering with.&quot;

She rose and approached him, laying her hands on his shoulders. &quot;You are tired and unstrung; how can you judge? Why not let me look at both designs to-morrow?&quot;

Under her gaze he flushed abruptly and drew back with a half-impatient gesture.

&quot;Oh, I'm afraid that would n't help me; you'd be sure to think mine best,&quot; he said with a laugh.

&quot;But if I could give you good reasons?&quot; she pressed him.

He took her hand, as if ashamed of his impatience. &quot;Dear mother, if you had any reasons their mere existence would prove that they were bad.&quot;

His mother did not return his smile. &quot;You won't let me see the two designs