“Why?” “I still love you. " He opened his eyes, to behold hers large with wonder. You won't often see white folks. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. “I’m not that beautiful. Put your arms around her and tell her you love her. I am the cause of his ill-usage. .
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