The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. His voice now had lost its ironies. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote.
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