There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. .
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