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. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. He had, however, planned brilliant careers for his two sons, and, with a certain human amount of warping and delay, they were pursuing these. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside.
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