" "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. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. "Here is my purse; and I trust you will let me know to whom I am indebted for this important service. You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise. You're alone, too, child. " "Fear nothing. ” She looked at her toes. The boy was coming around. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. “Please forgive me. . There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. He hasn't found himself, as they say. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. “I have spoken too many truths to-night.
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