" By this time, the chair had been brought into the Lodge. “Come,” she said. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. " "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. But I will not believe you. ‘A devil is just what you are. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.
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