Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. They've paid for their lodging. "These writer chaps are queer birds. "I'll gibbet the rascal. “Girl friends. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. How provoking!" she added, pretending to rummage her pockets; "one never can find a thing when one wants it. This she put into the trunk. They seed beyond all reason. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away.
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