“No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. “John, don’t!” she cried. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. ’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. Spurling, drily. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. It's kind of comforting to have you there. He looked down and met them. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good.
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