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" "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. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. " "What's that?" asked Wood with some curiosity. And I want him out of uniform. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. "We must change the subject," remarked Thornhill, pausing in his task; "this will never do. " "Ah.
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