McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. ‘Oh, you are making a game with me. ” “It is,” he replied, “the one humiliation of my life. ” Hill closed his eyes. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her.
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