" "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. Never was there another girl like this one. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. Little woman, you have been brave enough before.
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