CHAPTER XI. They mean something. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence.
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