Michelle moaned and Lucy, unable to help herself, stroked her hair. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. " "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. He hoped he would get to see the two suitors face off over Lucy. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet.
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