"I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. She hastened past. Her pulses began to race. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle.
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