” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. He could not kiss Ruth. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. "Our talking will not bother him. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber.
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