She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. “You have even her name. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which she had found. “I didn’t understand, Vee. “Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world.
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