“But, forgive me, you are tired. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. “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.
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