But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her.
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