. She had nothing to say for herself. ‘What would you do in Valade’s place?’ ‘You mean, knowing that the girl was here and liable to queer my pitch?’ ‘Precisely. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. 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. He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. I’ll show it to you later.
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