"Thank you," she said, and left the office. . Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. The period of repression was over. Wood will be here presently. ’ Melusine giggled. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. ” To which the only possible reply seemed to be, “I’m not coming home. I might as well be at Morningside Park. She had lost it.
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