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. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. “You have killed me. Sheppard. For that worthless father of yours—’ Melusine let go the hand only so that she might throw her own hands in the air.
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