‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. I don’t think women need to trouble about political questions.
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