Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. The lonely widows of robber barons found him irresistible and he was the guest of many a fine table. ” She paused. She had found that proof. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. .
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