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. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. ‘It is not your affair. "Are you not content with the crimes you have committed, —but you must carry your villany to this point. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. ’ Gerald laughed. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. ’ His finger came out and Melusine felt it stroke her cheek. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone.
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