" "But, Mr. He had not remembered her as looking so small. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. They would be quite as entertaining as the histories of Guzman D'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, Estevanillo Gonzalez, Meriton Latroon, or any of my favourite rogues,—and far more instructive. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever.
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