We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed.
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