The priest normally assigned the duty in the Iovelli family had fled days before from the chapel. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. He remembered it suddenly. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.
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