"I'd forgotten. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. I’m very resourceful, you know. . The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. " "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. Afterwards, it may be different.
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