S. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. It was a beautiful place that she had found, a round cave by a small stream. 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. “A lot of these people will be going presently. . Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had.
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