" Lady Trafford sighed deeply. "Do better in future. ” “Why not?” “You see, if I do go home my father objects to the College, and as for typing —” “Don’t go home. ‘Move, you. My late husband, I mean. " With this, he attacked her vigorously in his turn. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. CHAPTER II. In a little while he and she were talking quite easily and agreeably. 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.
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