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. “They might do you good,” she remarked. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. “If you say so, Lucy. ‘Is it soft, the way you seize me from behind? Parbleu, my heart it is flown from my chest! Boom, boom, it goes, even now. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment.
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