"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered. Find your man, that’s the rule. So, let's think no more about it. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. "You two will have this island by the ears," he said, wiping his eyes.
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