Amongst others, Mr. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. 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. . It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. Mr.
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