‘Cajolery? This is not your style. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. I'll think no more about her. Something is feeding upon them. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. "You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. How clever she was, to fool everybody so easily! Not yet had any one suspected the truth: that she was, in a certain worldly sense, only four weeks old, that her every act had been written down on paper beforehand, and that her success lay in rigidly observing the rules which she herself had drafted to govern her conduct.
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