With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. 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. I cannot protect you. The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word.
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