‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. Her elbows were ready. Wood, disdainfully. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. 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. ‘I can’t help but be sure,’ he returned shortly. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building.
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