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. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. At the same time, I must say that I am most anxious to improve my acquaintance with her. ‘Hilary was right. E. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off.
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