It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. ‘And this is where you have been all the time?’ ‘I would have been back in a day, I promise you. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then.
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