The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. 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. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. "He can't escape.
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