. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. 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. “Too much sensibility and too cold a heart. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding. ” He closed the door of 109 in her face. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No.
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