“Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. ‘But I do not pay this penalty. He is big and powerful; one of those drinkers who show it but little outwardly. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. I want to be myself.
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