“But, dear, think! He is your father. I can pull the strings of this stiff-necked puppet as I please. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. A wrathful God was watching him. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. . The young man looked at her.
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