He did not speak for a moment. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. ” “You think that you can do that?” “I am sure of it,” he answered, confidently.
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