His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. I tell you what, Mr. " "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.
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