“But how can you?” asked Constance. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. The room was dark and dusty. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. Lucy inhaled deeply. ’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. . 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. "Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood.
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