” “I can’t seem to get out of chairs without flashing my brassiere to the whole of Creation. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Few approached the émigrés directly, preferring to stare covertly from behind their fans, while pretending to admire the simple elegance of Lady Bicknacre’s neo-classical refurbishments. ” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him.
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