"I have," replied Jonathan. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. I don’t care what divides us. This is a case either of suicide or murder. “He’d better treat you right this time or I’ll pulverize him, you hear?” Lucy gave in to the hug. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise.
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