Neither of them was young Wentworth." I at once grew interested and asked her to describe the men she saw.
"No, no, no!" she cried vehemently, almost hysterically.

I thought she was going to weep, so I said in haste:-- "Don't weep, Frances! You must forget." She looked quickly up to me and answered: "I am not weeping.

There is not a tear in me.

I have wept until I am dry." "But your grief is unreasonable," I returned.

"Roger was your friend, I know, but his death does not call for so great sorrowing." "No, no, it is not that, Baron Ned.