“But for you Dad would never have let me marry Lescelles. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. ” “No, mine. The chair is in the veranda. " "How so?" inquired Winifred.
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