Her moods were many and always striking. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere.
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