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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. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. There he stands. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. But even with that furniture it remained extremely vague, the possible good and the possible evil as well! The possible evil! “I’ll go,” said Ann Veronica for the hundredth time. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. He thought it best to let the matter drop.
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