A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. “A girl needs her mother most exactly when she thinks she doesn’t. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. " "Ah, I see. ‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart.
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