\" It was a lie: Lucy ate one forced meal a day, supper. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. "They shan't have the opportunity," replied Kneebone. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. 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.
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