I thought, but did not say, that I prized it like the blood in my veins.
I only answered that I had so few letters to care for.
"I am sure you did not read it," said he; "or you would think nothing of it!" "I read it, but only once.

I want to read it again.

I am sorry it is lost." And I could not help weeping afresh.
"Lucy, Lucy, my poor little god-sister (if there be such a relationship), here--_here_ is your letter.

Why is it not better worth such tears, and such tenderly exaggerating faith ?" Curious, characteristic manoeuvre! His quick eye had seen the letter on the floor where I sought it; his hand, as quick, had snatched it up.

He had hidden it in his waistcoat pocket.