’ Hilary’s brows shot up. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. She turned her head to each side. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. It does not work, I still suffer madness. “I can get you,” Mr.
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