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She walked slowly, her eyes fixed on the ground. She was thinking harder than she had ever thought before in the whole course of her short life. When she reached the parting of the ways which led in one direction to the sunny, pretty front entrance, and in the other to the stables, she paused again to consider.
Miss Winstead was standing in the new schoolroom window. It was a lovely room, furnished with just as much taste as Sibyl's own bedroom. Miss Winstead put her head out, and called the child.