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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. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. . ‘I feared as much. “I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire. . The world is known to you.
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