My father's chief fear, I must tell you, is from the baneful influence of Jonathan Wild. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. CHAPTER XXII. His smile faded. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. ” An immense gulf seemed to open between father and daughter as he said these words.
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