Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. 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. I have always hated it. I've been thinking about it ever since morning. Loneliness.
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