She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. “That’s all very well when one isn’t the material experimented upon,” Ann Veronica had remarked.
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