But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me. A boy can forget his amatory troubles playing baseball; but a girl can't find any particular distraction in doing fancy work. Then, if you are bad to me, I can more easily blow off your head. She’s taken my sword. It's a sorry world," he went on. There's our young friend upstairs. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. It's too hard. “I must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour.
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