" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. Loneliness. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. Harkee," he added, "Mr. "I declare you throw me into an ague. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. .
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