” “I don’t understand. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. ” There was a long silence. 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. “I do not think so. He resumed his listening. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door.
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