He had not proceeded far when he encountered Sir Rowland, who, having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him. 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. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all. “Some of them seem to be having an awfully good time too. You didn’t even do that Vee; not even that. . Sanguine they were not.
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