" "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. " On leaving Mr. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us.
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