Finding all attempts at conversation with his companion in misfortune in vain, Wood, in order to distract his thoughts, looked up at the gigantic structure standing, like a wall of solid darkness, before him. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. “It was the night you left Paris. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. ” She raked into the fire with the poker. .
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