She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. “And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. I expect you had been snubbing him terribly. The arrest of this person is of consequence to me. 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 was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. I feel years younger, a man again. You have a daughter, no? Madame Ibstock, I think. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget.
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