And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. " "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. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie.
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