She flailed against the doctor’s grip but after what seemed an eternity of kicking and flailing, amazingly, he had not seemed weakened in the slightest by her resistance. 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. He insisted on buying this girl for two hundred mex. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. I would that you were my own.
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