"You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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