"His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. Goodbye. He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors.
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