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"My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. But it’s love you should’ve had when you were tiny and I didn’t give it to you. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. “That’s exhilarating,” said Ann Veronica. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. “I wanted to make love to you. ” TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text has been transcribed was inconsistent. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. 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.

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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 03-07-2024 10:12:13

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