“I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. ’ ‘Oh, she’ll be safe enough, Gerald.
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