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. See paragraph 1. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. It was not necessary to appease the wrath of human society; it was necessary only to appease that of God for the broken Commandment. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. ‘I can manage now. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none.
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