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 believe I’m the only sane member of the family left. “Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. “It is no good playing a game. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants. She confronted him with his own double-standard.
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