You know you do, Annabel. So saying, he manfully resumed his work; while Wood and Thames quitted the room, and went down stairs. " "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. "I've lost my wager. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. The will to live had returned. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear.
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