Now I’d like the rest of your story. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. ’ Lucy giggled. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself.
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