. " And muttering some remarks, which we do not care to repeat, reflecting upon the consistency of the sex, he was preparing once more to depart, when Mrs. Wood. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. You need only answer me truthfully and you have nothing to fear. It was hard to meet that gaze. But I shan't let him off thus. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. .
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