"I can't say I do," replied Wood. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. And for many years, that was the way it was. The door to the room in question was closed. ’ For a moment Gerald said nothing at all. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. 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. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. For now, I fear there is something worse, something more present. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. There is a railroad. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. ” She stopped, and then suggested: “I wonder—I should love—if it was anything I said.
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