She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. “Dear old daddy!” she said, and was amazed to find herself shedding tears. It’s your first evening, and early impressions do count for so much. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter.
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