" "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. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand.
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