Supper was over. Very good. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. “Let’s hope your successor is worthy of you. It might be dangerous to thwart him. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. I have given up painting.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE4OC45OS4xNzggLSAxNS0wNi0yMDI0IDE1OjM2OjAyIC0gMTc4ODAxNDEw
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