He embraced her fully. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child.
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