He would always be her friend, too. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. He was a philosopher. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope. My arm's nearly well again. Lucy was a hard worker and a good cook and because of those traits she and Sheila had gotten along most of the time. All that she had ever loved were gone, except Sebastian. " "We found all his pockets empty.
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