The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. " "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. “You have forgotten. I know well that you are making a game with me. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Drummond was telling me about the way old Ferringhall rounded upon them all at the club.
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