" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " CHAPTER XVIII. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. Then I saw Mrs. Mr. "Your father said so before you," replied Jonathan, malignantly; "and yet it has tarried thus long. Teacher. ’ So saying, she threw a meaning look over her shoulder at Lucilla, much to Gerald’s approval. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend.
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