He waved to her. ” She stood up and held her arms toward him. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. He cried out but his father only waved 280 like an automaton until the apparition disappeared. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently.
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