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. At last, she breathed. Wood, contemptuously. “I am afraid,” he said to Anna afterwards, “that it was a mistake to order the champagne sec. You know—I worship you. I thought Mr. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. Voilà tout. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. Tell me. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. " "There you're wrong, Mr.
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