She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. It hit her just above the knee. He drew her away from this thought. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. ” He mumbled, driving on.
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