Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. "What the devil are you about! Will you allow yourself to be beaten by a couple of kids?" "Not if I can help it," returned Abraham, making a desperate effort to regain his feet. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. She might even forgive him.
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