. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. Gerald grinned. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. " "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood.
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