The bridge was open. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. " "She cannot stay here," the manager declared. To his relief, she nodded. " "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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