Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards.
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