It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. Earles declared. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. "You are my prisoner.
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