She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. “Better state of mind,” she gasped. He has been a father to me and my child. 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. God must love me, for he has guided me here. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. He saluted awkwardly. “I didn’t blow up the house.
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