She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. Turning now, and running down the terrace. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. “I suppose, daddy, you’ve no objection to my going on with my work at the Imperial College?” she asked. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. He had never wanted daughters. His statement was treated with derision. “Yes, I see that. Montressor’s guests were. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter.
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