Yet she held her tongue. Then pain entered their depths. 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 each costume she had devised a suitable form of matrimonial refusal. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her.
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