On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. “They might do you good,” she remarked. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. Too late. Such revelations she hoped would be considered out of place and inappropriate. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. ’ ‘Ah, no?’ She saw his guard relax and lunged again. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down.
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