" "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. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. ” “No, that’s okay. I can be that man, the one I know you want.
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