She could think of nothing more to say. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause.
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