She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. There are pretty much three types, those that accept, and those who run away, and those who fight. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. She opened her eyes. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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