"I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. She came into the room. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. Wood. “Well, because I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. "Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it. Wood could stand it no longer. You do not make me afraid like this. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. out of the ten or twelve people one meets in a month not only say but feel and assume a thing, it is very hard not to fall into the belief that the thing is so. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it.
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