They walked side by side for a time. 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 the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. I’ve—dreads. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. Your purposes are defeated. " Thus urged, the damsels began to raise their voices in loud lamentation.
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