“You poor little girl!” he cried. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. ” “And you?” “Rather!” “I wonder why?” “There’s no why. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. Lucy entered the room. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. There are way-stations—even terminals. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel.
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