Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. ‘Your niece, ma’am.
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