It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. “I want you to kiss me,” she said. You intrigue me. "You read it, Ruth.
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