" "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. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend.
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