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 It was a strange life for a girl to lead—one, I mean, who had been so popular and had gone everywhere, and had counted for so much in the gayeties of Studdingham. Some of the boys didn't seem able to get used to it at all, and pretended to be awfully cut up—which was nice of them, and a compliment—though it wasn't enough to get the canary back into the cage. I was out of humor with the things I used to like, and kind of manhating and moody; and I wouldn't have traded Dandy Dick (which was the name I called the Maxwell car) for a full-fledged prince, with an ancestral castle and curly hair. No, I wanted to be alone, and free to bubble-bubble-bubble from morn till night, and recover in the open air and trees something that I seemed to have lost.

Of course, I was alive to the romantic side of it, and didn't spare any pains to look as pretty as I could, and wear the most killing clothes. Dropping out absolutely, and yet remaining conspicuous—every day sizzling