"She had always lived here.

We were distant-related, and we never had any words, but I didn't see much of her.

She kept herself to herself, especially of late years.
Of course, I thought enough of her, and it makes me feel real bad sometimes--although I own I can't help being glad to have so many nice things--to think she had to go away and leave them." "I know you must feel so," said Rose.

"I suppose you feel sometimes as if they weren't yours at all." Sylvia turned so pale that Rose started.

"Why, what is the matter?
Are you ill ?" she cried, running to her.