Came the dawn : memories of a film pioneer (1951)

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table as he worked, when the door literally burst open and framed that weak governess, now a quivering tower of rage, spluttering out her wrath and the story of her woe. She had on a tight petticoat bodice of scarlet, a very short skirt and long thin naked arms in one of which she brandished the offending article with most of the tar still upon it: her lips quivering, her poor weak eyes full of hot tears. It was a pitiful, horribly comical sight. I did not dare glance at my father. I do not know how far his quick sense of humour fought with his pity and anger. And if anyone thinks I triumphed in my sorry revenge I would like to punch his head. I believe I almost enjoyed my thrashing. 21