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. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. Peste, she had forgot the sword. “I wish he had,” she said. He read the Times with an unusually passionate intentness, and then declared suddenly for the earlier of the two trains he used.
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