A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. 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. "He has quite the air of one. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. " "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily.
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