Her father was distinctly irascible, and disposed more than ever to hide away among the petrological things—the study was turned out. “I told you I did not love you. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. ‘Jacques? Oh, that is news of the very finest. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him.
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