Brendon,” he said, “may I rob you of your guest just for the drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is an old friend. People of your sort—I don’t want the instincts to—to rush our situation. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. ‘I allow anyone in. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. Mere hangers on.
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