Wood,—"he'll never mend. " So saying, he unlocked the door and strode out of the room. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. He was all alone, too. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. Meet me. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy.
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