F. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls. 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. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Kneebone will excuse you.
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