Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Good night. "But don't ever let me see them again. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well.
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