‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. Kneebone.
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