He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. ‘You were his daughter. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. Michelle and her father sat in the audience, Diane having chosen to stay home to prepare dinner. That's the way it goes.
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