" "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. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. ” For a fraction of a second the two young men hesitated. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings.
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