Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. "You are my prisoner. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. “So is Mr. ’ ‘Yes, do so,’ rejoined Melusine enthusiastically. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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