" "Oh, yes I will. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!" "I thought you sent for me, Ma'am," replied the widow, humbly. But for now, I’d like to turn in, if you don’t mind. And Pottiswick, of course. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed.
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