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"I don't know, I am sure," said Elizabeth, yawning. "You seem to be terribly
interested in him."
"I am," admitted Harriet frankly. "He's a regular adventure all in himself--a whole
series of adventures."
"I've never been partial to serials," said Elizabeth.
"
Well, I should think one would be a relief after a whole winter of heavy tragedy,"
retorted Harriet.
"
What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth.
"
Oh, I mean Harold, of course," said Harriet. "He's gone around all winter with a
grouch and a face a mile long. What's the matter with him anyway?"
"I don't know," sighed Elizabeth. "I'm afraid he's working too hard."
Harriet giggled.
"
Oh, fiddlesticks!" she exclaimed. "You know perfectly well that Harold Bince will
never work himself to death."
"
Well, he is working hard, Harriet. Father says so. And he's worrying about the
business, too. He's trying so hard to make good."
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