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Updated: May 2, 2025
The unseen watcher on the other side of the hedge saw his face grow white and intense and set-lipped, as if it had been the face of a man. The grey eyes were alight with a steady, fearless glow. "I'll have something to do with him. He is my father and I love him. I don't care what he did, I love him just as well as if he was the best man in the world.
How well he remembered that old road, although it was forty years since he had last traversed it, a set-lipped boy of fifteen, cast on the world by the indifference of an uncle. The years had made surprisingly little difference in it or in the surrounding scenery.
Isabella met him at the door, smileless, cold-eyed, set-lipped. "What do you want here?" she said, in the tone she was accustomed to use to tramps and Syrian peddlers. "Want!" David's surprise left him at a loss for words. "Want! Why, I I want my wife. I've come home." "This is not your home. I'm no wife of yours. You made your choice when you went away," Isabella had replied.
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