"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. The theme was a masquerade. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. ’ The couple on the sofa stared at her blankly.
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