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House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
2 It was a relief to Lily when her father died.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
3 "He is my father's cousin," Miss Bart interposed.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 7
4 Some one told me my father used to lie sleepless and think of horrors.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 14
5 In the dark hours which followed, that awful fact overshadowed even her father's slow and difficult dying.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
6 His father was the kind of man who delights in a charming woman: who quotes her, stimulates her, and keeps her perennially charming.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 14
7 Lily could not recall the time when there had been money enough, and in some vague way her father seemed always to blame for the deficiency.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
8 The laugh was so strange that Lily coloured under it: she disliked being ridiculed, and her father seemed to see something ridiculous in the request.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
9 She leaned confidently toward her father: he seldom refused her anything, and Mrs. Bart had taught her to plead with him when her own entreaties failed.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
10 Lily obeyed, and when she turned back into the room her father was sitting with both elbows on the table, the plate of salmon between them, and his head bowed on his hands.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
11 Even to the eyes of infancy, Mrs. Hudson Bart had appeared young; but Lily could not recall the time when her father had not been bald and slightly stooping, with streaks of grey in his hair, and a tired walk.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3
12 Ruling the turbulent element called home was the vigorous and determined figure of a mother still young enough to dance her ball-dresses to rags, while the hazy outline of a neutral-tinted father filled an intermediate space between the butler and the man who came to wind the clocks.
House of MirthBy Edith Wharton ContextHighlight In BOOK 1: Chapter 3