Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. He had barely said, \"Anytime,\" before she shut the door rather rudely in his face. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned.
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