Daughters were not like sons. E. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. ” On the inside she felt her muscles loosen with relief. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced.
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