Mrs. Larry fell off the truck the Wednesday night before she planned on leaving. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin.
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