" "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. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. The militia were in already. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Spare him! spare him!" "On one condition I will spare him," returned Wild; "on one condition only.
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