"Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. ” She came closer. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. Claude du Val himself couldn't have carved it better—ha! ha!" The name inscribed upon the beam (of which, as it has been carefully preserved by the subsequent owners of Mr. Another picture slid across her vision. Wood.
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