You have to see her to understand. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. He blurted, “I was just telling Lucy that I have finished an important work. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. 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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