"Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Lucy studied Katy for the rest of the game. He looked at her reproachfully. The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame.
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