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. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. “Both. \"Lucy, wait up. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. She made an abrupt personal appeal. Suddenly he understood what had happened.
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