‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. "It's runnin' a great risk. I cannot do it, David.
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