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CHAPTER VI. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. There is no Heaven for your mother. Let me engage myself. How can you protect me? Moreover, it is stealing that you have done, and therefore—’ ‘Don’t tell me you expect me to arrest myself again. You are nothing of the sort. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. ’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. It’s not far from twilight.
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