“No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. He returned the locket without comment. He then spoke with a certain fatherly kindliness of the past. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. You won't often see white folks. Soon, they fattened up, their cheeks rosy and their hair shining.
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