‘Certainly you are imbecile. “These are her rooms,” she said. 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 hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day.
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