She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. " "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. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. " "That is your fault, none of mine. ” Her heart leaped within her as she caught that phrase. ” She interrupted as Ann Veronica was about to speak again, with a bright contagious hopefulness.
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