F. He hesitated. He had not had time to aim the pistol. 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. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. “Girls of sixteen do not need their own laundry hampers.
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