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. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. “All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. “I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack.
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