“I am a fool,” he said. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. “Which is Mr. ” “Do you still love him?” “Just the opposite. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled. " "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. “Here, dis is for you.
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