"Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. They talked of a new substitute for dripping in vegetarian cookery that Mrs. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. It was red and chapped. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. "So get up, and leave off whimpering.
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