"I have nothing to forgive. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. 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. He said the place had gone to wrack. Anna watched her with curious eyes. He could not kiss Ruth. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue.
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