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. You’ll never even see me again, for that 268 matter. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. At noon the doctor himself arrived. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house.
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