"To be sure I will, my child. " "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. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure because business was so bad. “Will they worry about you getting caught in a storm?” She asked him as she viewed black clouds floating in different directions.
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