Wood," urged Jack. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. " "If he had only been my father!—McClintock!" "God didn't standardize human beings, Ruth; no grain of wheat is like another. Vorsack looked pale and pink. When were you last confessed, Sir Rowland?" he added abruptly. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone.
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