’ ‘That is what you think? Eh bien. ” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. 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. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. " So saying, he violently shut and locked the door. Here was one that subtly mocked her.
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