Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. I could not become an Oracle. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. Ah Coom.
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