There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. The great heart of the world beats only where men and women are gathered together. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. “Never was such an age of transition. "Not my king's," returned Wood.
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