Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. . Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive.
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