Lucy was sent reeling into a stone wall, which she hit with a great thud. The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. 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. To make Ruth pay for the whole shot! To wash away his sin by crucifying her: that was precisely what he had set about. Now, I'll be getting along.
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