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. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. That is what I don't understand. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. I have a few regular patients, and I take care of them in the morning. elizabethbailey.
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