Stanley. We dine at seven-thirty. “But it is so difficult——” “Not at all,” he answered eagerly. ” The official frowned. Primarily it was her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. But she was not there. Very likely you will disapprove highly of what I have done—I wonder? You may, perhaps, think I have done it just in a fit of childish petulance because my father locked me in when I wanted to go to a ball of which he did not approve. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing.
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