What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. 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. It brought no coconut. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. We LIKED each other well enough.
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