"Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. "Mutual concessions," she added. Teenagers buzzed about her newly discovered talent for the violin in the same sentences as they gossiped about her torrid police scandal and a lost mother who remained in the deep shadows of murder mystery. 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. That’s one thing clear. Yet, I suppose that at the present moment I am the most envied man in the room.
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