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Book, page 41 / 92 ANABEL. Good night, Mr. Barlow. I am so sorry if you are over-tired. (Exit BUTLER and MR. BARLOW. ANABEL takes a drink and goes to the fire.) (Enter GERALD.) GERALD. Father gone up? ANABEL. Yes. GERALD. I thought I heard him. Has he been talking too much?--Poor father, he will take things to heart. ANABEL. Tragic, really. GERALD. Yes, I suppose it is. But one can get beyond tragedy-- beyond the state of feeling tragical, I mean. Father himself is tragical. One feels he is mistaken--and yet he wouldn't be any different, and be himself, I suppose. He's sort of crucified on an idea of the working people. It's rather horrible when he's one's father.--However, apart from tragedy, how do you like being here, in this house? ANABEL. I like the house. It's rather too comfortable. GERALD. Yes. But how do you like being here? ANABEL. How do you like my being in your home? GERALD. Oh, I think you're very decorative. ANABEL. More decorative than comfortable? GERALD. Perhaps. But perhaps you give the necessary finish to the establishment. ANABEL. Like the correct window-curtains?
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