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somewhat troubled look from her blue eyes. Then she took the canvas from the easel.
"Here, let me help you," he begged. "You don't mean to say that you carry all this truck around every day?"
"It's not heavy," she answered.
"But you'll let me carry the easel and box for you?"
"I'd rather you didn't trouble yourself," she answered.
"But your way is mine, and if I may?"
She bent her head without answering and led the way down the glade toward the road. Miles followed. So did Bistre.
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