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. "Come along, Blueskin. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over. She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. Again silence.
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