It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. I am loved.
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