“I hate this!” Lucy accused him, pointing to the Michelle. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ‘I knew it.
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