But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. It was explosive and gratifying. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion.
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