How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. 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. —'They can't, I tell you,' says I, in a bit of a passion; 'it's unconstitutional. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years.
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