’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. “Do YOU go across the Park?” “Not usually. 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. There was a long silence between them.
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