About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. 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. “I will make it possible,” he cried. He had not considered this aspect of the business. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. ” She slipped it on her finger, and added, in a voice she tried to make matter-of-fact: “It was given to me last week.
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