Wood could stand it no longer. No offence, I hope. . . The Closing Scene 472 EPOCH THE FIRST. ‘She won’t. My will never faltered. I wanted the time with you. But it's French manners, I suppose. ” He read it in winter in the evening after dinner, and Ann Veronica associated it with a tendency to monopolize the lamp, and to spread a very worn pair of dappled fawn-skin slippers across the fender. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously.
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