She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. “Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. Them young prigs is all alike. I get along with my Mom sometimes, Lucy. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. You make yourself charming for help. “Splendid it must be to be a composer. " She opened the book which she had brought to the table. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side.
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