" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. ‘That’s my pet name. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. But if his frame was immature, his looks were not so. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. E.
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