. 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. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon.
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