You hurt the child. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. That’s— that’s my private life. 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. ’ Lucilla gaped.
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