“I couldn’t help it. ” He crossed his arms. “My dad is into this stuff. ” Capes watched the limpid water dripping from his oar. I have pleaded with her—no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. 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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