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. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. It was a pity people had to eat food. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. " "Delay the marriage till then. " "Mr. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said.
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