Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. " For a long time after O'Higgins had gone the doctor rocked in his swivel chair, his glance directed at the map. \" \"There's only one problem. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. 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.
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