The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Wagstaff. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. "Auntie?" he cried.
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