The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. 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 seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. He had never wanted daughters. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands.
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