“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. You shall tell me if I am wrong. —"Oh! about that boy, Thames Darrell. What his head conceived his hand executed. 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 want to be your friend,” he said. There’s something— something ADULT about you.
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