S. She looked stealthily at Anna. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. 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. " "Does that villain still maintain his power?" asked the stranger sternly. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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