\"What's that?\" Lucy asked. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. She must not show anything. " "Perhaps that was it. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends.
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