" "Would you like to have me read to you?" He did not answer. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. I take more than their blood, John. " "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. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Mind, I am anticipating events.
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