123 It didn’t take long. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. “She is marvellously clever,” he said. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. " "No," said Ruth, pulling back. ‘So it would appear.
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