Sublime

I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself. At night there was never a traveller

奇怪

pointing her knitting-needle at little Lucie as if it were the finger of Fate.

Even without Lydia, the world would not level. He and his parents and their lives would spin into the space where she had been. They would be pulled into the vacuum she left

sustained as she was by all the excitements which a new adventure awakened in her heart,

“Mark Twain wrote, ‘Mauritius was made first, and then heaven; and heaven copied Mauritius,’”

I discovered her. Charmante, a perfect Gretchen,4 and we’ve already become acquainted. The prettiest little thing, really!’