"In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly.
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