" "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. ” “No, don’t say that. The manager twisted his moustache. ’ ‘It cannot be helped now. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. Your father has forbidden you to go!’” “Well?” “She said, ‘I hate being horrid to you and father, but I feel it my duty to go to that ball!’” “Felt it her duty!” “‘Very well,’ I said, ‘then I wash my hands of the whole business.
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