Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise.
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