It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. . Wood. " "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 know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily.
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