” She commented. 238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. “And you brought her a man, I presume. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. But a little daughter is one thing and a daughter quite another. ‘Something in that, missie. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened.
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