You will go to London?” “It is necessary,” she answered. Meanwhile, she was spirited away from John and bombarded by half-familiar people who attempted to chat with her above the roar of the crowd. 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. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. She drank it obediently. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. Denis. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him.
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