I do not think you quite understand my ideals or what is becoming as between father and daughter. I have a big breakfast. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. My death, probably. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow.
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