Determined, however, to conquer the feeling as soon as possible, Wood had given orders to have the evening meal served there; but, notwithstanding all his good resolutions upon his first entrance, he had much ado to maintain his self-command. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. Her English was halting. “I will make it possible,” he cried. Every one of those four stories would be accepted. She had set out to get a beautiful life, a free, untrammelled life, self-development, without counting the cost either for herself or others. This is retribution.
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