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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. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 23:30:08