But send me word. 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. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. "Would you rather be alone?" "No. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam.
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