It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. F. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. “I might go home, I don’t know.
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