. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash.
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