‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. 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.
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