"Heed her not. Lucy sighed. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. Much too young for you. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory. Only in man is the male made the most important. " "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.
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