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. Annabel set her teeth hard, and turned fiercely towards Anna. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Every one of those four stories would be accepted. . She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up.
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