‘Do you swear it? There’s no knowing if one can believe you. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Ownership seemed only a reasonable return for the cares and expenses of a daughter’s upbringing. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. I said to myself at once, ‘Either this is a coincidence or the caper sauce.
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