It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. " "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent.
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