For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. Lucy followed. But, being pushed forward by his subordinate officer, he was compelled to make a stand. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. 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.
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