" "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. She is no longer mine; she is yours. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. ” “No,” she moaned, “not that. But you must leave us now, dear Winny, Jack and I have something to settle between ourselves. With Bess's assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak.
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