" "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. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. Pistols and pictures? Now it fair goes agin’ me nature to act rough with a lady, but you’ll come along of me at once. ’ For a moment he looked daunted. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books.
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