The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. This time there wasn't any doubt. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. She could not realize what she saw. 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.
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