“Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. I'll be at the Cross Shovels in the course of the day. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. His instinct was in the direction of considering his daughters his absolute property, bound to obey him, his to give away or his to keep to be a comfort in his declining years just as he thought fit. Like the flaws of an old marble.
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