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. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. He died in the war. "First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls.
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