I'm goin' to be the friend--the brother you need.

An' I reckon I can come somewheres near bein' a mother, if you'll let me." Something, some subtle power or charm, stole over Columbine, assuaging her terrible sense of loss, of grief.

There was tenderness in this man's hands, in his voice, and through them throbbed strong and passionate life and spirit.
"Do you really love me--_love_ me ?" she whispered, somehow comforted, somehow feeling that what he offered was what she had missed as a child.
"And you want to be all that for me ?" "Yes, lass, an' I reckon you'd better try me." "Oh, how good you are! I felt that--the very first time I was with you.
I've wanted to come to you--to tell you my troubles.

I love dad and he loves me, but he doesn't understand.

Dad is wrapped up in his son.