‘I do not know of whom you speak. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. 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. . Then, as Ramage readjusted himself in a corner, he remarked: “These young people shoot up, Stanley. And this though he was evidently passionately in love with her. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day.
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