‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. 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. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes.
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