“Why don’t they wait?” he added. 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. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. You’re tired, of course.
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