"Here are some letters, which will let you see what a snake you've cherished in your bosom, you uxorious old dotard," said Blueskin, tossing a packet of papers to Wood, as he followed his leader. 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. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me.
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