" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. His sword then came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. Fortescue tried to act embarrassment in order to conceal its reality, and Ann Veronica went on to ask a string of questions about acting, and whether her sister would act, and was she beautiful enough for it, and who would make her dresses, and so on. Look at me.
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