" "If it were so, he would have great reason to be proud of the relationship, truly," observed Wood, shrugging his shoulders. " "I'm going to put one question," interrupted the doctor. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. En tout cas, no one has asked you to puzzle out anything at all. 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. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. . There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered.
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