" "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. “Very good,” he said. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. He is all kindness, and will overlook them for your poor father's sake —for mine. "Get in wid ye, ye villin!" And, despite his resistance, Shotbolt was thrust into the chair, which was instantly fastened upon him. "Oh!" she gasped. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed.
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