“The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. "I'm not worth it. I can't run in these heavy fetters. 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. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents.
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