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. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. As sure as you're sitting there, Mr. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be.
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