The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. S. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. 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. Hill,” she said graciously.
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