But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. "My father!" she whispered. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. I can get into my clothes. ” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block.
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