" "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. ” Then it was her father issued his ultimatum. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. “Vee,” she said, “come home. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. The gallows has groaned for him for years.
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