Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. ” She commented, only to herself. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. His tone was rough, almost threatening. "I'll need a job when I quit this bed. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise.
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