" "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. No; she'd never go back. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. Well, I'll take myself off. Kneebone, addressing his comely attendant; "put a few more plates on the table, and bring up whatever there is in the larder. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream.
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