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. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. He shook his head. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. No work that offered was at all of the quality she had vaguely postulated for herself. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. .
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