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Under a canopied platforlare of the California sunshine, filtering through the canvas, becairl's head--yellow like the

stalk of wheat--there hovered a kind of aureola, as if there had risen

above it a haze of iht have cried out that here ended his quest of the

Golden Girl Straight she stood at this moment, lovely of face,

rounded of forestion of latent physical

power or netism On her temples there were little daubs of clay,

caused doubtless by i back occasional wind

blown locks of hair There was even a daub on the side of her handsome

sensitive nose

Her hand, still filled with clay, dropped to her side, and a tableau

endured for aa remote period, a Persian

idyl,model

The chatoyant eyes of the leopard stared back, a flicker of

restlessness in their brilliant yellow deeps The tip of the tail

twitched

"You beautiful thing!" she said

She began kneading the clay again, and with deft fingers added bits

here and there to the creature which had grown up under her strong

supple fingers