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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. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “I mean it. It is absolutely a frightful neighbourhood, this. "I will set about it instantly. ” “Then how have you managed?” “Bother!” said Ann Veronica to herself, and tried not to look guilty. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me.
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