The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. "And on my part, I shall not lift a hand to defend myself. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. 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. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts.
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