A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. You have been to see your sister, of course.
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