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" "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. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. “I think we are growing sensible,” he said. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. "At all hazards then then you shall know the truth," replied the woollen-draper, in a tone of affected solicitude,—"but are you really prepared?" "Quite—quite!" replied Winifred. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. These girls wore hats at remarkable angles and bows to startle and kill; they liked to be right on the spot every time and up to everything that was it from the very beginning and they rendered their conception of Socialists and all reformers by the words “positively frightening” and “weird.
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