“She’s proclaimed herself queen of the school. It’s a mismatch. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. “Then I suppose when I have graduated I am to come home?” “It seems the natural course—” “And do nothing?” “There are plenty of things a girl can find to do at home. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly.
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