But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. But I see very clearly that as things are a daughter is necessarily dependent on her father and bound while she is in that position to live harmoniously with his ideals. Hill closed his eyes. ’ ‘I also said, if you remember, that I could not promise not to do so.
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