“In any case, there is probably some mistake. I pity her from the bottom of my heart. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. It must be the dawn creeping in. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. 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. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. I believe I’m the only sane member of the family left. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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