What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. ” 129 She smiled wider. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. Your maid would not be of the least protection.
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