They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. 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. She was nestled under his bedspread. A wrathful God was watching him. Half the rooms empty. ‘So that’s true, is it?’ ‘Certainly it is true,’ Melusine said, opening her eyes wide.
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