‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. " "And you whipped the beast? I passed him. . Gone off, cool as you please, and left me to manage everything. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas.
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