Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. Ha!" exclaimed the stranger, as shouts and other vociferations resounded at no great distance along the thoroughfare, "not a moment is to be lost. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. That's the way it goes. Why? Because Howard Spurlock the author dared not risk the liberty of Howard Spurlock the malefactor; because there were still some dregs in this cup of irony. 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. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. He had got here at speed by that means. She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces.
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