I do not love any one. Nevertheless she withdrew her hand. There was none. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. ‘Tee-ree-sa.
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