The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. 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. White will present her bill. But I don't look for peace on this side the grave.
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