Never?
"Yoh must go, my little girl," he said at last.
Whatever he did must be done quickly.

She came up, combing the thin gray hairs through her fingers.
"Father, I dunnot understan' what it is, rightly.

But stay with me,--stay, father!" "Yoh've a many frien's, Lo," he said, with a keen flash of jealousy.
"Ther' 's none like yoh,--none." "Father, look here." She put her misshapen head and scarred face down on his hand, where he could see them.

If it had ever hurt her to be as she was, if she had ever compared herself bitterly with fair, beloved women, she was glad now, and thankful, for every fault and deformity that brought her nearer to him, and made her dearer.
"They're kind, but ther' 's not many loves me with true love, like yoh.
Stay, father! Bear it out, whatever it be.

Th' good time 'll come, father." He kissed her, saying nothing, and went with her down the street.