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” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. 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. " "Not I," replied Jack; "I'm too comfortable where I am. ” “It isn’t exactly that,” Anna answered, “but to tell you the truth, I cannot bear to look upon myself as a rank failure.
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