Winifred pointed to the door. And he liked her. And at the sight something leaped within her. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. 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. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy.
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