" "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. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. " There was no danger in admitting this fact. How long have you been playing?” Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. She could not apply it in this instance because she was not sure the application would be correct.
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