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. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. “But perhaps I want to confess them. Righting, however, instantly afterwards, she scudded with the greatest rapidity over the boiling waves, to whose mercy she was now entirely abandoned. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. I hope I may never come near her.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNC42NS4xNDggLSAxMi0wNy0yMDI0IDAyOjEwOjQ0IC0gMTM5NzUxOTk2OA==
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