" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. No! That was impossible. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. I hope that you did not permit her to feed?” “But I did! I did!” She sobbed. She stepped into his arms. Miss Mary to the life.
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