" "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. “It’s not for us to supplicate any more. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. But it was not so ordered. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. "I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. uh. “Punctual.
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