But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol.
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