He grunted, and his grip gave. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. "Whatever you say—you, behind those stars there, if you are a God. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. \"Michelle's here with a rather large cadre of friends. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast.
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