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. " "Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. ’ ‘What?’ ‘Neat little toy. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion.
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