The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. 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 meant to lie to you. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips.
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