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127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. It vosh plain he vent dat vay. ‘This we will leave. You'd better lose no time. ‘Very inventive. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life.

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