" "I've been wondering, too. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. " "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. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. It is she that I must see. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. 6. ” The full significance of her words did not instantly appear to him.
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