"It is droll," he said. She opened the door to him herself. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine.
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