" "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. “I’ve gotta go. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. ‘Now be sensible, Melusine, and let me help you.
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