He'll mend, I hope. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. 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. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. “It has been a delightful evening for me. All these experiences have taught me a great deal about life and realities. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot.
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