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. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. It must be somewhere hereabouts. I'll leave these out, and to-morrow you can read them through. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world.
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