“The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. Wood could stand it no longer. Wild and I were nabbing you in this very room, some nine years ago?" "I do," replied Kneebone; "and now," he added, aside, "the case is altered. ” Sir John was speechless. 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. .
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