‘I have the pleasure,’ said I, ‘of knowing your father.’ It
was a clumsy introduction, and the lady made me feel it.
‘There is nothing in common between my father and
me,’ she said. ‘I owe him nothing, and his friends are not
mine. If it were not for the late Sir Charles Baskerville and
some other kind hearts I might have starved for all that my
father cared.’