For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. I suppose most of our daughters would marry organ-grinders if they had a chance—at that age.
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