As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ” There was genuine interest in her eyes now. "I'll find you out. "When you are stronger we'll go up to the cutwater and watch them from there. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. 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. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him.
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