“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. There was—a service. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. "He can't escape.
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