“It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer. His fingers closed upon her hand. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake.
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