He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. I do not love you. I was curious about that. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up.
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