There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. 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. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. Damn! I’ve splashed.
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