" "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. That's the only fault I know of. . ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. . When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. Well might she do so, Gerald thought in irritation.
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