” “She liked everything. 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 might have muddled for a time. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. "I am one.
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