For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. He then said that if she would not obey him in this course she should “never darken his doors again,” and was, indeed, frightfully abusive. And then she fell into a musing about Capes.
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