done, the inaccuracy in one or other of these statements was glaring
enough to put both out of the argument. But what Evadne did note was the
use of the word control.

As she grew up she became her father's constant companion in his walks,
and, flattered by her close attention, he fell into the way of talking a
good deal to her. He enjoyed the fine flavour of his own phrase-making,
and so did she, but in such a silent way that nothing ever led him to
suspect it was having any but the most desirable effect upon her mind. She
never attempted to argue, and only spoke in order to ask a question on
some point which was not clear to her, or to make some small comment when
he seemed to expect her to do so. He often contradicted himself, and the
fact never escaped her attention, but she loved him with a beautiful
confidence, and her respect remained unshaken.

When she had to set herself right between his discrepancies she did not
dwell on the latter as faults in him, but only thought of how wise he was
when he warned her to be accurate, and felt grateful. And in this way she
formed her mind upon his sayings; and as a direct result of the long,
informal, generally peripatetic lectures to which she listened without
prejudice, and upon which she brought unsuspected powers of discrimination
to bear, he had unconsciously made her a more logical, reasoning,
reasonable being than he believed it possible for a woman to be. Poor
papa! All that he really knew of his most interesting daughter was that
she was growing up a good child, physically strong and active, morally
well educated, with a fortunately equable temper; and that she owed a
great deal to him. What, precisely, was never defined. But when the
thought of his kindness recurred to him it always suffused him with
happiness.