The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. 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. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. ToC "At length this tragedy is at an end," said Mr.
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