It isn't as if he were stricken with typhoid or pneumonia or something like that. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. Earles strode into the waiting-room. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped.
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