" "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. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. ” “Very romantic. —'It's all up with us,' says he; 'they've taken away our charter. He looked at her with a certain curiosity.
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