"I find I was in error. He laughed reassuringly. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. 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 has one, that’s why. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident.
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