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. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. Marvel. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. ‘Well, only look what’s come of it. ‘I have the means to compel you.
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