For she needed him. Love lives on a higher plane. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. She was dressed as a white woman should be; and that for the present satisfied her instincts. She took his hand in hers. "I can't say I did," replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; "what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. It won’t even know whether to be scandalized at us or forgiving.
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