"Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. \"What's that?\" Lucy asked. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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