The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. 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.
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