On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. “It’s like the Picture and the Bust. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. Then he did give way a bit. 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. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. " "Not your only chance, Thames," returned Jack, in the same undertone; "but your best. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. “Because I hate you!” She spat.
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